


The Mummy

by PalomaSheith



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Allura - Freeform, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Fighting, Historical, Honerva - Freeform, Implied GrifKade Pining, M/M, MFE Deaths, Magic, Matt Holt - Freeform, Minor Coran - Freeform, Monsters, Mummies, Oh and Surprise Sendak, People Will Die, Set in the 1920s, Supernatural Elements, The Mummy AU, They aren't the best, Violence, Yeah... I have nothing to say., alternative universe, and the other MFEs are here too, but..., it had to be done, james griffin - Freeform, lance - Freeform, mild horror themes, zarkon - Freeform, zarkon/honerva - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2020-02-27 11:56:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18738526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PalomaSheith/pseuds/PalomaSheith
Summary: Deep in the Egyptian desert a band of explorers searching for long-lost treasure accidentally unearth and resurrect Zarkon, a disgraced ancient priest, and his world ending curse.Now, to stop the mummy and save the world, Keith, an American adventurer teams up with Shiro, a librarian who longs for excitement, and a motley crew of unlikely heroes to end Zarkon’s reign of terror and stop the curse before it ends the world.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> As requested, I am tackling a Mummy AU.  
> This is one of my favorite movies and my favorite ship, so this is a challenge. I really want to do justice to the film and the fans while adding my own twists. I know that this will not be everyone's cup of tea, but I hope that some like the flavor regardless.  
> I am posting the prologue and chapter 1 together, but will be posting one chapter at a time.  
> I want to thank Navi and Oli for listening to me doubt myself and fret. You two are the best.  
> Now without further ado, The Mummy...

_Thebes 2,134_

 

Thebes, City of the Living, was the crown jewel of Pharaoh Seti the First. It was also the birthplace of Honerva, once a young priestess, now mistress of Pharaoh.

Honerva was treasured by her ruler and displayed like a jewel on his arm. And as all of Pharaoh’s possessions, no other man was allowed to lay hands upon her.

But for all the gifts and affection the Pharaoh showered upon Honerva, she did not love him.

Instead, the beautiful young priestess had become enraptured by Zarkon, High Priest of Osiris, Keeper of the Dead.

And advisor to Pharaoh himself.

Although the lovers longed for each other, their love could not be.

Not as long as Pharaoh lived and ruled the kingdom.

So in the dark corners of the palace, they plotted an escape; an escape across the sea to begin again anew and build their future together.

But all of their plans were for naught.

With the death of the Queen, Pharaoh announced his plan to take a new bride: Honerva.

The night Pharaoh announced his intention, Honerva ran to her lover in panic. If the wedding were to take place, they would never be free to love.  

Zarkon ordered his priests to prepare a boat, they would leave that night. But as he held Honerva close and kissed away her tears, Pharaoh discovered them.

Enraged at the betrayal, Pharaoh called for his guard and in a panic, Honerva made a decision that would destroy all of their lives. Pulling the sacred bagsu from Zarkon’s side, Honerva plunged the blade into Pharaoh’s heart.

As Seti lay dead at her feet, the thunderous sound of soldiers announced the arrival of Pharaoh’s guard. Zarkon refused to leave Honerva's side, pushing his priests away.

“Run!” she urged “You’re the only one who can bring me back.”

Finally relenting, Zarkon allowed the priests to pull him away into the shadows vowing to defy the gods and resurrect his beloved. The guards stormed into chamber as Zarkon watched from the shadows. "In death, I will be free!" Honerva declared as she drove the bagsu into her chest.  

Because Honerva had betrayed and murdered Pharaoh, she was to be cursed and her soul driven into the dark underworld. And as guardian of the dead, it was Zarkon’s duty to curse it.

Instead, the priest bundled Honerva away into the night with one destination in mind: Hamunaptra, City of the Dead, resting place of the sons of Pharaohs and the greatest treasures of the kingdom. The one place he could find the Book of the Dead. The book that held the secrets to bringing Honerva back to life.

With the aid of his priests, Zarkon called Honerva's soul back from the dark underworld and into her body. Their reunion was at hand when he was discovered.

After discovering Honerva's body gone, Nefertiti, daughter of the slain Pharaoh and newly crowned Queen, had sent her guard into the darkness after Zarkon determined to make sure he paid for his betrayal.

And so the young Queen decreed that Zarkon and his traitorous priests be cursed. The priests were to be mummified alive, never to know peace in death. While Zarkon, who betrayed Pharaoh and stole his lover away, was to endure the Hom-Dai.

The Hom-Dai was the worst of all the ancient curses, one so horrible it had never before been bestowed upon anyone. Zarkon was to remain sealed inside his sarcophagus as one of the Undead for all eternity.

The Magi, guardians and descendants of Pharaoh’s guard, would never allow him to be released. For if he were, he would arise a walking disease, a plague on all of humanity, with the strength of ages and the glory of invincibility.

And so, for 3,000 years, the Magi have kept watch.

And waited.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now the fun starts.

_ Hamunaptra Ruins-1925 _

 

Keith stared up at the dune. “I knew today was gonna be a lousy day.”  He spat the toothpick out of his mouth and steadied the rifle on his shoulder taking aim at the Tuareg calvary readying for attack. 

They were outnumbered. 

They were outgunned.

“Join the French Legion, huh?” he narrowed his eyes at the man to his right. 

Griffin laughed nervously. “Yeah. Well, it was supposed to be easy money.”

“‘Easy,’” Keith grumbled. He tossed his kepi and looked over to the left, “Aspirant! Quelles sont vos-?” 

To his surprise, the commander tossed his bandolier at Keith. “Tu es seul!” The man fled the front line making for the ruins behind them. 

Keith watched in disbelief before grabbing the bandolier from the sand.”Sonofa…” He cleared his throat, “Looks, like I got a promotion.”

Griffin shifted nervously. “I mean… Surrender is always an option, right? We could make a deal.”

“Prenez cos positions!”

“Dammit, Keith!” Griffin sighted his rifle. “You stubborn bastard.”

The calvary charged. 

“Hold!” Keith yelled. The thunder of hooves across sand echoed off the crumbling monoliths. “Hold!”

“Keith!” Griffin growled next him. 

“Hold!”

The indigo robes of the riders fluttered across the sand as they pulled the swords from their takuba and urged their camels forward. 

“Fire!”

The Legionnaires let loose a volley of gunfire. The camels bellowed and bleated. Blood splattered on the sand and rocks. But still the Tuareg charged, slashing at the soldiers and reclaiming their territory one man at a time. 

Keith reloaded and fired again hitting a rider charging at Griffin. “Fall back, James!” 

Griffin fired again. “I told you to negotiate, Kogane!” 

A warrior slashed at Keith; Keith stabbed him with the bayonet. “Next time!” He kicked the man back. Gunfire sounded from behind the riders. “Shit!” The cavalry had cleared the front line. The gunmen were moving in. 

Keith pushed Griffin ahead. “Run! Get inside!” He made it three steps before he was knocked to the ground by the weight of another man. A rider had seen his chance and jumped from his camel on top of Keith. His broken sword cut into Keith’s cheek. Hot blood staining the sand below. Keith held the broken steel back with straining with the force. He fumbled for a foothold, kicking at the sand until he hit stone. Using his leverage, he flipped the man and pulled his pistol free. One shot was all it took. 

Keith scrambled to his feet and ran forward, searching the chaos for his friend. “James!” He leapt over bodies and ruins making for the ancient temple doors. “Get inside!”

Just ahead Griffin broke cover and ran headlong toward the heavy stone doors. Bullets buzzed past Keith’s head striking men and ruins alike. Griffin slid his slender frame into the temple door. Keith dodged another strike from a camel mounted rider, slipping in the sand and landing hard on his back. The man angled his sword and pulled back to strike. Keith rolled onto his side and grabbed a discarded rifle. He aimed upward and squeezed the trigger. 

Nothing. 

“Shit!” 

The rider laughed and swung, bringing the steel down in force. Keith pulled the stock back and blocked the sword blow. He leveraged his legs and pushed back against the swordsman, knocking him off balance and off his mount. Keith clamored to his feet and ran for the door. The door his childhood friend was safe behind. The door that would block the Tuareg warriors and keep him alive. 

The door that was shut tight. 

Keith slammed against it. “James, you son of a bitch!” A bullet struck to the left gouging the stone. He pushed off the temple frame and made for a circle of pillars for cover. Behind him more riders joined his pursuers in a chorus of pounding hooves and gunfire. He rounded a fallen statue and made it inside the circle of pillars. But there was no cover. He stopped in front of the largest stone and turned to face his fate. 

Five Tuareg riders faced him, armed with swords and rifles. Keith grit his teeth and held his ground, fist closing on his fateful Bowie knife; his last line of defense. “Come on then!” he yelled as the two swordsmen approached. 

Then the air shifted. 

The camels bellowed and pulled against their reigns. A heavy wind rose from ground below, calling up a wave of sand that crashed against the pillars. A deep, rasping voice rode the wind calling out to the riders in Berber. 

Wasting no time, Keith’s attackers fled calling out in fear and confusion, leaving rifles and swords behind. 

Keith could only watch as another sand wave rose, aimed at him. He stepped backwards fumbling against a pillar, trying to get a grasp on his position. But to his horror, the wave didn’t crash down on him, instead it massed into a mask-like face and spoke, in English, “You will die.” 

Driven by panic, Keith pushed himself off the pillar and ran straight through the sand. Away from the face. Away from the temple. 

Away from Hamunaptra.

He ran until his legs wouldn’t move any more and his lungs burned like the sun above. He perched in a craggy enclave facing the plateau that hid the mythical city. He looked back then, at the fool’s mission that had cost his platoon their lives, but saw nothing. 

Well, maybe not “nothing”.

On the ridge above just in line with city’s path was one lone rider, their long black robes billowing in the wind whipping softly against a white horse. The rider watched Keith, still and unflinching under the sun’s harsh heat. Minutes ticked by, neither moved until finally, the rided nodded and turned away riding down the side of cliff face and into the dessert beyond. 

Keith decided not to linger any longer. With one last look, he headed west, swearing to himself to never step foot in Hamunaptra again. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


_ Cairo-1928 _

  
  


“Let’s see…” Shiro blew the hair out of his eyes shifted the books in his hand. “We have  _ Sacred Stones _ .” He hummed and searched the titles, alphabetizing in his head. “Here.” He slid the book into its place and tapped the spine for good measure. “Now  _ Sculptures and Aesthetics _ . I should really reread this one.” He slid it snugly between  _ Sacrilege and Punishment: A Comprehensive Guide _ and  _ Settlements of the New Empire.  _ He sighed and held the last tome up for inspection. “Tuthmosis?” Shiro laughed to himself. “Looks like you’re in the wrong place.” He started down the ladder. “Just like me.”

“Shiro!"

Shiro startled. The ladder pulled away from the shelf. Shiro dropped the book as he grasped for the ladder. And for one glorious moment, he believed that he had avoided disaster. 

Unfortunately,he was wrong. 

The ladder teetered for three long seconds before it fell backward, crashing into the bookshelf behind him. Shiro landed hard against the wood and scattered books. But the worst wasn’t over. 

With wide eyes Shiro watched as each shelf crashed into the next in a perfect display of physics. One after the other, the four meter, solid oak shelves crashed to the cold tiled floor of the Cairo Museum of Antiquities. And in the center of the room stood Lance, mouth agape and eyes sparkling in amusement. Slowly he turned and met his foster brother’s eyes and burst into bellowing laughter. 

“W-What?” the curator’s stammering was replaced by anger as soon as he laid eyes on Shiro. “You!” Dr. Wimbleton-Smythe narrowed his eyes and stormed across the hall. 

Shiro scrambled to his feet gathering books as he stood. “Dr. Smythe! I-”

“What in the name of Anubis have you done to my library?” he snatched a book from Shiro’s hand. 

Lance snorted in laughter but was silenced by a glare. Raising his hands, Lance backed away a few steps before turning and hastily walking into the next room. 

“It was an accident, sir,” Shiro bit his lip.

“An accident, was it?” Dr. Smythe sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Bright orange hair falling lose from his fastidiously done hair. “Gods. Why do I put up with this? With you?”

Shiro stood up straight and put a stack of book on a cart. “You put up with me because I am a Princeton educated Egyptologist who is fluent in ancient Egyptian; who can decipher hieroglyphics, and hieratic. And I am the only person within the city of Cairo who knows how to code and catalog a library. Not to mention-”

“Takashi, I deal with you and your brothers for one reason and one reason only: your father. Dr. Samuel Holt was not only the greatest contributor to the museum, but my dearest friend. And if I hadn’t promised him that’d I’d look after you lot, you’d been on a boat back to London after the casbah incident!”

Heat crept into Shiro’s cheeks. “I was only there get Matt! The monkeys were all Lance!”

Dr. Symthe held up a hand to silence him. He shook his head and sighed again. “Takashi, you’d have plenty of opportunities in London. Opportunities despite your… Condition. You don’t have to stay in Egypt. You have plenty of connections. You could have a safe, quiet life.”

Shiro gripped the spine of the book in his hand and stared down at the brassy gleam of the cart. “I don’t  _ want  _ a ‘safe, quiet life’. I  _ want _ to be here, Coran.” He set the book down. “And I  _ want _ to be out in the field.” He turned and looked at the curator, his foster father’s best friend and the man who had graciously accepted him and his brothers into his life after Dr. Holt’s death; a man who more like an uncle than an employer. “I can do it if they would just give me a chance.”

Dr. Symthe pressed his lips together in a grim line. “You’re going to have to face the truth at some point, my boy. Men with only one arm can’t do field work.”

Shiro turned away, hiding the hurt by busying himself with the books. “I’ll clean it up. Call up some men to right the shelves, will you?”

Dr. Symthe watched Shiro in silence before nodding. “Oh,” he paused, “And tell Lance that he better not be here with another ‘discovery’ or by Harrod, I’ll ban him.” With a sharp turn, he walked away. 

Shiro watched him go before letting out a long sigh. "I just need a chance." He ran his hand through his hair and surveyed the library floor. It was going to take hours to clean this. As he bent to gather another book, he caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye and turned toward the gallery. 

Two sets of eyes peeked around the corner, one set bright blue, the other amber and both shining with mischief. 

Shiro frowned. "What are you two even doing here?"

Matt stepped around the corner and tugged his ponytail tight. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his linen jacket. "It's good to see you too, big brother." 

Lance leaned his arm on Matt's shoulder. "You haven't seen us in two months. We could have been dead."

Shiro rolled his eyes and turned back to the books on the cart. "If you were, I wouldn't be in this mess here. Now would I?"

Lance covered his mouth with a hand and gasped. "Are you blaming this on me?"

"If you hadn't startled me, I wouldn't have fallen." Shiro picked up another book. "Have you come to ruin my career the way you have ruined yours?"

"Our careers are on high note right now," Matt smiled and stepped forward.

"'High note'. Sure," Shiro shoved another book into the cart. "I don't really have time for this. Or patience." He dropped another book onto the stack. "Did you come because you heard I was rejected from the Mamoran Scholars again?"

Matt wrapped an arm around Shiro's shoulders. "I may have just the thing to cheer you up, Shiro."

Lance came around the other side of the cart and held out his hand. A little black pentagon sat nestled in his palm, hieroglyphs worn soft with age caught Shiro’s eye. He furrowed his brows and ran his fingertips along the rough surface. “Where did you get this?”

Matt and Lance exchanged a look. Lance waggled his eyebrows. Matt smiled. “Thebes.” He cleared his throat. “A dig down in Thebes.”

Shiro picked up the box and frowned at the design. “Thebes? Are you sure?”

“Tebes. Abydos, maybe. Somewhere like that,” Lance waved the question away.

There were little bumps on each edge. If Shiro could just… 

“Please tell me, we’ve actually found something this time,” Matt leaned in. “Something worth more than few pounds.”

Shiro placed a finger on each bump and pressed down. Five triangles unfolded from the top opening into a perfect little star and revealing a small scroll, mud seal still intact. “Oh my Ra…” Shiro muttered to himself. He set the box on the brass book cart and slowly pulled the scroll from the center. “Boys, I think you’ve found something.”

  
  


“Coran!” Lance pushed the double doors open sweeping into the curator’s office like he owned the place. “Have we got something for you!”

Coran set his tea cup down and pulled on the end of his mustache. “Takashi, I told you to warn your brother-”

“Coran,” Shiro stepped around his brother. “You have to see this.” He hurried to Dr. Symthe’s side and pushed a stack of papers to the side. Overflowing with excitement he unrolled the papyrus in front of his employer. “It’s a map and look-look here! At the cartouche. That’s the royal seal of Seti I, Coran. I’m sure of it.”

With an arched brow Coran leaned forward holding a monocle to his eye. “Perhaps,” he conceded. He pressed down the edges of the map. 

Lance perched on the edge of the desk. “Who’s Seti the first?”

Matt plucked a figure from the shelf. “He was the second pharaoh the of the 19th dynasty.” He set the figure on the desk and smiled at Lance. “Said to be wealthiest pharaoh of them all.”

Shiro pressed on, “I’ve already dated the map. It’s authentic. It’s over 3,000 years old.” He took a deep breath. “A-And this here. The hieratic. Coran, it’s Hamunaptra.”

Coran let out a disbelieving laugh. “Hamunaptra? Takashi, really? I except this from the two of them. But you’re a scholar, not a treasure hunter.”

“Whoa! Wait!” Lance hopped off the corner of the desk and pulled Shiro’s shoulder. “Did he say treasure?”

Shiro rolled his eyes. “Everyone knows the story, Lance.”

“Yeah,” Matt chimed. “Even you couldn’t have been dense enough to have missed Dad’s talks on Hamunaptra.”

“Talks,” Coran laughed. “They were myths told by merchants to the Roman tourists and bedtime stories to amuse little boys.” He leveled them an amused look. “Surely you aren’t expecting me to believe all of this?”

“Believe all of what?” Lance poked Shiro in the back. “I don’t remember this. I’m the baby. You two are old.”

“Katie’s the baby,” Matt flicked his brother’s ear, “You just act like it.”

“Hamunaptra is The City of the Dead,” Shiro supplied. “The entire necropolis was rigged to sink into the sand on Pharaoh's command. Taking all of its treasures and secrets with it.” 

“Yes, yes,” Coran laughed. He waved the papyrus in the air. “A lovely fairytale.” The flame of the gaslamp caught the edge of the map, igniting it instantly. “Oh! Oh my!” Coran tossed the map away.

The brothers scrambled to smoldering papyrus, stomping and patting the page out as quickly as they could. 

“Y-You burnt it!” Matt held the crumbling papyrus up for inspection.

“The part with the dead people city is gone!” Lance grabbed at the blackened edges.

Shiro stared down at the map in disbelief. 

Coran leaned forward in his chair and looked away. “It’s for the best, lads. I’m sorry.”

The three exchange looks.

Matt swallowed. “We’re going to have to find him.”

“The hell we are,” Lance shot back. “He’ll kill me!”

Shiro frowned down at them. “Tell me the truth. Where did you get this?”

  
  
  
  
  


"Welcome! Welcome!” the warden smiled and wrapped an arm around Shiro’s waist, pulling him forward. “This is the famous Cairo prison. My home. Please.” He swept his other arm out. “This way.”

Shiro tried to pry the warden’s arm off of his waist as politely as possible while glaring at his brothers. “You lied to me!” he hissed. 

Lance tugged on his jacket sleeves. “It wasn’t ‘lying’. It was…”

“Creative speculation,” Matt finished. “We don’t know where he got it.”

Shiro wiggled out of the warden’s grasp. “You stole it!”

“There is  _ no _ way he didn’t cheat in that card game, Shiro! He owed us!” Lance argued. 

“What is he even in prison for?” Shiro asked. 

The warden pulled Shiro back into his embrace. “When I heard that you were coming, I asked him this myself.”  His fingers kneaded Shiro’s side. “ _ You _ may call me Slav.”

Shiro tried prying the fingers off. “Yeah…” he laughed nervously. “So what did he say when you asked?”   
Slav smiled up at Shiro and banged his crop against the metal bars. “He said, he ‘was just looking for a good time’.” 

Beyond the corroded bars a wooden door slammed open. Two hulking guards pulled a struggling prisoner out of the darkness. The man landed on his knees in the hay and dirt, black hair wild and long framing a sharp, pretty face. Shiro stared in shock at sharp indigo eyes measuring each of them like a threat. “Who are you?” the man asked Matt and Lance. He lifted his shackled hands and pointed at Shiro with a smirk. “And who’s the Sheik?”

“Sh-Sheik?” Shiro turned to his brothers, blushing hard. “Is-Is this the man?”

Matt laughed nervously and pushed Lance forward. 

Lance caught himself against the bars. “Ha… Yeah… See, we’re just some local missionaries. Spreading the faith and all that. Hail King George.” He made a face at Matt and mouthed something unintelligible. 

Matt nodded and pulled Shiro forward patting his back. “This is our brother Shiro and he wants to ask you a question.” 

“Wait a minute,” the prisoner leaned up against the bars pointing at Lance. “I know you.” 

“Me? Oh! Uh… You ever go to church?”

Without hesitation, the prisoner punched Lance through the bars. The warden and guards immediately began yelling and hitting the prisoner with their crops. The prisoner took the hits with a grunt. “Worth it.”

“Slav!” another guard called the warden from across the yard. The warden glared at the prisoner and turned to Shiro with an apology before running off. 

Meanwhile Lance sat on the ground with a bloody nose. “I fink fhee broke it!” 

Matt squatted next to him barely containing his laughter. “Let-ha-let me see it.”

Shiro rolled his eyes and stepped past them. He leaned over and took a deep breath. “Hi. I’m Shiro.” 

The man looked up at him from under his thick lashes. “Yeah, I caught that.”

Shiro blushed and cleared his throat. “We have your puzzle box and we came to ask you about it.”

“No.”

“No?”   
The man smiled and cocked his head. “You came to ask me about Hamunaptra,” he smiled.

Shiro’s knees felt a bit weak. “How did you-”

“You want answers?”

Shiro nodded and leaned closer. “Yes.”

“You really want to know?”   
“Of course?” Their faces were mere inches apart. “Can you tell me how to get there?”   
“Yeah,” the man breathed. His eyes flicked down to Shiro’s lips as he licked his own. He reached through the bars again and pulled Shiro’s face toward his. Their lips crashing together in a desperate sweep. “Then get me the hell out of here.”


	3. Chapter 2

The guards set upon the prisoner immediately pulling him away from Shiro and bringing their crops down on his back. Shiro stumbled back. Slav returned to his side hands immediately closing around his waist.

“Do it, Shiro!” the man shouted as he struggled against the guards. “Get me out of here!”

“Wait!” Shiro yelled when his tongue seemed to work again. The guards drug the man back through the heavy doors. “Where-Where are they taking him?”

“To be hanged.”  Slav tighten his grip on Shiro’s waist and herded him towards a set of stone stairs.

Shiro looked back at his brothers. Lance was holding a hanky to his nose and Matt was still laughing.

It was up to him.

Resisting the urge to pull away from the warden, Shiro let Slav lead him up the stairs to a roughly hewn mezzanine that overlooked the prison yard below. Shiro immediately caught sight of the prisoner being led to the shoddily constructed gallows below. The man locked eyes with him. Shiro’s chest tightened.

“I’ll give £100 to save this man’s life.”

Slav arched an eyebrow. “I’m afraid that is not possible. By my calculations,his fines alone are over £300.” He turned back to the gallows and waved hand. “Continue.”

The hangman looped the noose around the prisoner’s neck and ruffled his hair. The prisoner growled at him.

“Hhhmmm,” Slav scratched his chin, “According to my calculations, the rope is too long for his weight. He has a 83% probability of strangulation; and 16% of decapitation. 1% his neck will break.”

Shiro swallowed. “500, then. £500 to let him go.” His heart was pounding.

Slav held up his hand. The hangman stopped. “Why would you pay so much for him?” He narrowed his eyes. “What are the chances that you are attracted to this pig?”

Shiro’s cheeks heated up. “I-I’m not!”

Slav leaned closer.

Shiro leaned back.

“Warden!” the hangman called from below. “His last request is for a knife!”

Slav turned his attention to the gallows. “You cannot give him a knife!”

The hangman slapped the back of the man’s head and tugged on the noose.

“Aiqtalah!” Slav waved his hand. The hangman pulled lever and floor dropped away.

“No!” Shiro caught himself on the railing. He felt nauseous at the sight of the man struggling below.

“Looks like I was correct,” Slav mused. “He is going to strangle.”

Shiro grabbed Slav by his shoulders. “He knows the location to Hamunaptra.”

The warden blinked up at Shiro and looked at the prisoner writhing beneath the platform. “You mean to tell me that this-this-” He paused.  “Or are you lying to save him?”

Shiro let go. “I would never!”

“This American criminal knows the location to the City of the Dead and all of the potentially fantastic treasures inside?”

“Yes!”

Slav stroked his chin. “Truly?”  
“Yes! And-And if you cut him down, we will give you-uh-”

“I want 50%.”

“20.”

“40%!”

Shiro looked back at the prisoner and bit his lip. “25%”

“Deal!” Slav grabbed hold of his waist again and yanked him close. “Fahim! Cut him down!”  
Shiro pulled away and caught himself on the railing. He caught sight of the prisoner on his hands and knees coughing into the dust. Slowly the man staggered to his feet rubbing his throat and peered up at Shiro through a curtain of wild inky hair. He pushed a hand through the mess of hair and smiled up at Shiro

Shiro’s throat suddenly went dry.

God, he hoped he did the right thing.

  
  
  


“Do you think he’s even going to show up?” Lance adjusted a pair of dark glasses trying in vain to hide the bruising.

“Oh yes,” Matt smirked. He slung his bag over his shoulder as they walked along the dock. “You know the type. One of those cowboy types. His word is bond and all that.” He nudged Shiro. “I’m sure you’re looking to become quite familiar.”

Shiro made a face. “Frankly, I would rather keep my distance. Unlike the two of you I don’t often find myself associating with low-lives.” He pointed up at a newer ferry. “This is ours.”

“We do not,” Lance protested. “What do you take us for?”

“Let’s see,” Shiro paused by the gangplank. “Rude. Filthy. Complete scoundrels.”

“Anyone I know?”

Shiro startled, then stared. Thick black hair cut shorter in the back, a pretty angular face with a scar down the cheek, and big indigo eyes; yeah, there was no doubt that is was the same man he’d saved from the gallows. But this was… Unexpected.

He held Shiro’s gaze with amusement playing across his lips.

Lips that Shiro couldn’t help but to remember had been pressed against his only 24 hours ago.

“By the way,” he offered, “I’m Keith. Keith Kogane.”

“Hi…” Shiro blinked and willed himself to think.

Matt clapped Keith on the back. “Looks like a fine day to start an adventure. Wouldn’t you say?”

Keith eyed him skeptically. “Yeah. Fine day.”

“I know we got off to kind of a rough start, but we’re partners now!” Matt pulled Lance closer with a nervous laugh. “So no hard feelings. Right, guys?”

“Look,” Lance pulled his glasses off, revealing his swollen nose and blackened eyes.

Keith bit his lip in amusement.

Lance jabbed a finger at him. “Can you look me in the eye and guarantee that this isn’t some sort of scam?”

“Wouldn’t that be your department?” Keith shot back.

“I’m warning you-”  
"You're warning me?" Keith stepped toward Lance, letting him push his finger into his chest. “Let me put it this way: My whole damn garrison believed in this so much that we defied orders and marched from Libya halfway across Egypt to find that damn city.” Keith leaned in. “And when we got there, it cost them all their lives. All of them; except me.” He turned to Shiro with a smile. “Let me get your bags.” And without prompting, Keith piled Shiro’s luggage onto his own and boarded the ferry.

Shiro stared after him blushing wildly.

Matt leaned his chin on Shiro’s shoulder. "Ah, yes. Lovely view, isn't it?”

Shiro shrugged him off. “You’re an absolute menace.”

“Hmph,” Lance pushed his glasses back up his nose with a wince. “Bit preachy, if you ask me.” He lead the way up the rickety walkway.

Matt clapped Shiro on the back and followed Lance brother up.

Shiro took a deep breath and flexed his fingers around the railing. He had barely stepped onto the plank when a step familiar and unwelcome fingers dug into his hips.

“Oh Shiro!” Slav tugged on Shiro, knocking him off the wood. “I am so grateful you have waited for me!”

“What?” Shiro gaped down at the warden. “Why are you here?”

“I’ve come to protect my investment, of course.”

Shiro wriggled out of Slav’s grasp. “I-I didn’t.. I mean… We-”

Slav clicked his tongue and started up the gangplank. “I am afraid that beautiful men like you cannot be trusted.” He threw a wink over his shoulder. “I must keep an eye on my business. There is a 74% chance that you and your brothers will try to cut me out.”

Shiro scrubbed his hand over his face. He was finally going to get his field experience, but at what cost?

  
  
  


 

Keith huffed and sat up on his bunk. He drummed his fingers against the wooden frame. He felt… Distracted.

Yeah.

He was distracted.

He definitely wasn’t thinking about big grey eyes and soft lips. Nor was he thinking about shy smiles and that certain shade of pink that lingered on high cheekbones.

Keith was definitely not thinking about Shiro.

Keith slapped his hands on his thighs and hopped to his feet. He grabbed his canvas bag and mailed his out of the cabin toward the deck.

He needed a clear mind.

He needed to distract himself from his distraction.

He stepped out onto noisy deck, weathered wood creaked under his boots.

“Hey!” A familiar called out over the clamor. “Are you going to cut the bloody deck or what?”

Keith immediately recognized Shiro’s brothers at a crowded round table

There was whiskey and cards scattered across the scarred surface. Lance was perched on a wobbly stool huffing impatiently at a blonde woman.

“Come on, Ina,” a dark haired woman urged, “How am I supposed to kick his English ass if I don’t have any cards?” She pushed her glasses up on her nose and nudged the man next to her. "Right, Kinkade?"

Nonplussed, the blonde, Ina, continued to meticulously slot the cards together. “I don’t understand your complaint. I’m shuffling in the optimum manner. Using this methodology-”

Kinkade spoke in a deep, gentle voice, “In this case, I think we’ll have to sacrifice optimization for speed.”

“Hey, Keith!” Matt called too loudly. Everyone turned to face Keith. “Fancy a game?”

“Ha… Um… Thanks,” he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Not a gamblin' man, eh?” the woman with glasses turned halfway in her seat and smirked. She was dressed in a loose linen top and brown leather pants. Her long dark hair loose around her shoulders. “Maybe I can change your mind.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and winked.

Keith huffed. “I highly doubt that, ma’am.”

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “How about I bet you $100 American, that we beat you to Hamunaptra?”

Keith tensed. “Who says we’re looking for Hamunaptra?”  
Everyone at the table pointed at Lance.

“Of course,” Keith mumbled. He turned back to the woman and forced a smile. “What makes you so sure you’ll win?”

The woman’s chair fell back to the ground with a heavy thud. She grabbed the nearest whiskey bottle and filled a glass. “We’ve got us a man on the inside.” She downed the shot and smirked. “Someone who’s actually been there.”

“What a coincidence,” Lance jerked his thumb at Keith, “So do-”

Matt kicked his leg out and knocked the stool from beneath Lance. He flailed his arms and caught himself. The table erupted in laughter.

The dark haired woman poured another glass. Keith reached over her shoulder and plucked the whiskey from her hand. “I’ll take your bet.” He threw the shot back and tossed the glass back at her. “Ladies.” He turned to Kinkade with a nod. And with a warning look at Matt and Lance, he left them to their game.

  
  


Shiro sat at a little table by the railing reading and rereading page 78 of Mr. Poirot's latest mystery. Shiro normally delighted in every twist and turn of Agatha Christie's mysteries, but at this point he’d barely managed to assert that Mr. Roger Ackroyd was dead. Stabbed to death in a most gruesome way and there was something about a woman…A lover?

Shiro had no idea.

He blew out a frustrated breath and started the paragraph again.

He was on the cusp of his first real sojourn into the field. It’s what he’d been dreaming of since he was boy. Of course he’d be distracted, he reasoned. It was an adventure. It was the allure of the unknown. It was… The piercing blue eyes of a dark haired stranger.

Shiro shifted in his seat and furrowed his brows.

He was a man reason and education. He was here for the anthropological and cultural discovery of a lifetime; he was certainly not gallivanting off on some wanton romantic adventure.

Although…

The heavy bang of metal on wood startled Shiro out of his thoughts.

“Sorry,” Keith gave a nervous chuckle and finished unfurling a leather roll of knives. He slid into the chair across from Shiro. Keith plucked one of the blades from the leather and began working it across a dark colored stone.

Shiro pressed his book against his chest and eyed the weaponry. Gleaming silvers and shimmering brass laid out in an intimidating display. He swallowed hard as he watched Keith twirl his long fingers around the handle before inspecting its edge.   

Nothing enticing about that.

Keith smiled to himself as he held his blade up to the light.

Nothing at all, Shiro repeated silently.

“I don’t suppose you’re familiar with knives?”

Shiro blinked and closed his book. “Certainly not.” He looked out over the black waters of the Nile.

Keith huffed. “I find that surprising.”

“What do you mean by that?” Shiro turned back to Keith.  
Keith shrugged and worked another knife down the stone. “Nothing really. It’s just you don’t seem all that…” He paused and looked Shiro up and down.

“All that what, Mr. Kogane?”

“Call me Keith.”

“Fine. Keith.” Shiro blushed despite himself. “What are you trying to insinuate?”

“You just don’t seem like the indoor type.” He met Shiro’s gaze.

Shiro turned back to the water with a blush. “Why do we need all the knives anyway?” He chanced a look back at Keith. “Are we going into battle?”

Keith paused and set the knife on the table. “There’s something out there.” He pulled the gun from his hip holster and set it on the table. “Something under the sand. Something… Evil." He reached down into a canvas bag and pulled out a cloth. "Shiro, what do you expect to find out there?”

“Ah, well…” Shiro poked at one of the blades. “I’m looking for an artifact. A book actually." He picked up one of the smaller blades. "The Book of Amun-Ra.” He smiled at Keith. “They say that it contains all of the secret knowledge of the Old Kingdom. Dad used to tell us stories about it when we were boys." He looked over the carved handle before setting it back down. "It'’s what got me interested in Egyptology in the first place.”

“And your brothers?”

“Yes, well, they heard of all the treasures yet to be found and well… They decided to make that their life's pursuit.”

Keith hummed. “And the fact that the book is made of gold makes no difference to you?”

Shiro laughed. “You’re full of surprises, Mr. Ko-I mean, Keith.” He cleared his throat. “You know more than you let on.”

“I know treasure,” Keith ran a soft cloth along the barrel of his sidearm.

Shiro pressed his lips together. “Keith?”

“Hhhmm?”

“Why did you kiss me?”

Keith paused for a moment and glanced up at Shiro. He furrowed his brows and concentrated on the gun harder than necessary. “Well, I was about to die. Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Oh.” Shiro gathered his book and pushed his chair back. “I-I see.” He nearly tripped over the leg of the table. “Goodnight, Mr. Kogane.” He rushed past the bewildered American.

“Wait,” Keith set the gun on the table and reached out. “Shiro. What did I…”

But Shiro dodged his grip and quickly disappeared into the nearest the door with scarlet cheeks.

“Dammit all,” Keith muttered and ran a hand through his hair. He made it two steps, when a familiar figure caught his eye.

“You…” Keith grabbed the gun off the table and stalked across the deck. He grabbed a man by the collar and pushed him roughly against the makeshift horse stalls. He pressed the barrel the man's chin. “James Griffin, you sneaky bastard.”

“K-Keith?” James huffed. He struggled against Keith’s grip.

“You backstabbing, son of a bitch! You left me to die!”

“No! It’s not like that!”

Keith tightened his grip. “So you’re leading the Americans. What’s in it for you?”

James pushed the gun away. “They’re my crew.”

Keith let go. “Your crew?”  
“Yeah.” James huffed and attempted to straighten his jacket. “After the massacre, I managed to get back to Cairo. I met up with Kinkade and we started an operation. Exports. People in the States are paying big money for for anything Egypt. Ina has a head for numbers and Nadia’s one hell of a negotiator.” He tugged his sleeve straight. "Among other things."

"Doesn't explain why you're here.”

“Money. Why else?” James scoffed. “The whole reason the garrison marched us out there in the first place. There’s treasure out there. I got some of it inside that temple, but we need more. We’re gonna be richer than the Rockefellers.”

Keith rolled his eyes and tucked the gun into his belt. “Always about the money with you.”

James took the opportunity to add more space between them. “What about you, Keith? You never believed in Hamunaptra, so why are you going back?”

“Did you see the man I was with?”

“The one-armed bookworm?”  
Keith fingered the handle of his gun. “Don’t call him that.” He narrowed his eyes at James. “Ever.”

James held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Fine. Fine.”

“He saved my life.” Keith hesitated, but let go of the gun. “Unlike some people,” he looked James over. “I’m loyal. I’m going to take him out there and bring him back safely.”  
James sidestepped a bale of hay and clapped Keith on the back. “Well, you did always have more balls than brains, Kogane.”

“Don’t touch me, James.”

James’ smile faltered. “Yeah. Got it.” He scratched the back of his neck and began walking backwards toward the ruckus of the card table. “Guess, we’ll be seein' each other.”

“Yeah, I guess we will.”

With a nervous chuckle, James turned and walked away.

“Of all the luck.” He walked back to the table and grabbed up his whetstone.

Then he saw them.

Footprints.

Wet footprints.

  
  
  


Shiro cleared his throat and tried reading aloud. If a mystery couldn’t capture his attention, maybe work would. He set the book on the dresser and read, “Kolivan Marmora, founder-” Shiro pulled his shirt off and reached for a hanger. “Um… In eighteen-sixty-” He grabbed the door hook instead. He huffed in frustration and grabbed the hanger off the hook. “In 1865,” he read louder and reached for his belt. “The Marmora Society-” After fumbling uselessly at the buckle, he grabbed the tail of the belt and finagled it free with too much strength, sending the leather strap flying across the room onto Matt’s bunk.

Shiro groaned and let his head fall back. “It wasn’t even that good of a kiss anyway!” He sighed dramatically and walked over to his brother’s bed to retrieve his belt. He bent over the lumpy straw mattress and reached for it, but stopped short when he felt the cold steel press against his throat. He stood straight slowly.

“Turn,” a gruff voice demanded.

Shiro complied.

“Where is the map?” The man was wearing a black jellabiya and ghuthra with black crescent tattoos on his cheeks. He pressed a brass dagger against Shiro’s throat. “Where is it?”

“There.” Shiro swallowed hard and pointed at the scorched map on the table.

“And the key?”

“K-Key?”

The man leaned in. He smelled like old tobacco and the river. “We need the key!” He hissed.  
“I don’t have a key!”

He pressed the blade harder against Shiro’s throat.

The door flew open with a crack. “Shiro!”

“Keith!”

The man grabbed Shiro and pressed his body against this back. Keith had two guns aimed at them. Suddenly, the window shutter splintered and another man appeared in the opening aiming a rifle at Keith. Keith opened fire hitting one of the oil lamps in the process.

Fire and oil spread across the dingy cot under the window. The man in window didn’t seem deterred by the flames, he took aim and fired at Keith once again.

Seeing his opportunity, Shiro grabbed the lamp from the table and shattered it over the man’s head. Shiro ran for the door with Keith on his heels.

“I forgot the map!” He turned back in time for Keith to catch his hand.

“I’m the map, remember?” Keith tugged him along the narrow passageway gun in hand.

“How could I forget?” Shiro laughed nervously and looked behind them. The fire was spreading.

Keith kicked open the exit. The deck was in chaos. More black clad men were seen setting fires. The crew was frantically freeing the horses. Passengers were clamoring down the sides of the ferry.

“Here!” Keith grabbed a canvas bag and thrust it at Shiro. He pulled them into an alcove to reload. “Just follow me, ok?”

Shots rang out all over the flaming boat, but Keith didn’t seem to be in any hurry. Even when the shots landed nearer and nearer. Shiro slung the bag over his shoulder and pulled Keith away from the approaching bullets. Keith shrugged out of his grip with a smirk, “Come on.” He lead Shiro across the deck, pausing only to return fire. The vessel creaked and groaned as the fire consumed it. It wasn’t going to hold up much longer.

“Can you swim?” Keith asked as he grabbed his bag from Shiro’s shoulders.

“Can I swim? I-I can. Yes. When the occasion calls for it.”

Keith grabbed Shiro by the hips and steered him to the rails. “It calls for it.”

“Keith, I-” He was cut off by his own helpless yelp of surprise. Keith lifted Shiro by the hips and sat him on the railing.

“Trust me.”

Shiro nodded and turned toward the deep black waters below. He took a deep breath and jumped.

 

Keith watched Shiro bob to the surface in the river. He looked confused, but determined. Keith tugged on the straps of his pack and prepared himself for the jump.

“You!” Keith froze. “American criminal!”

The warden huffed and clung to satchel in a panic. “What do we do? What are you doing?”

“I’m-” He looked over the railing. “I’m going for help. You stay here.”

“Right! I’ll stay…” Slav narrowed his eyes at Keith and shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

Keith shrugged and slung his leg over the side the ferry. “Can’t blame a man for trying.” He let himself fall into the water.

Slav looked back at the flames and back at the water. “But there is an 84% chance of a crocodile nearby!”

Matt pulled Lance up to the warden. “What?”

“Crocodiles!” Slav repeated. “We can burn to death or be eaten.”

Lance’s face crumpled. “You must be joking!”

Matt grabbed a metal box from Lance’s hand. The metal box that had once held the map. He tucked it into his jacket. “Of course, he is!” He wrapped his arm around Lance’s shoulder and guided him to the edge of the boat. “You’re a strong swimmer. Remember that summer in Dover? You’ll be fine.”  
Lance blinked up at him owlishly. “I will?”

“Yeah! Of course.” Matt tightened his grip for a moment before flinging his younger brother over the side of the flaming ferry.

Slav watched in wide-eyed horror. “I cannot believe you just did that! He is your brother!”

“Yeah,” Matt grunted as he climbed over the rail. “And I would like to keep him alive. “ He buttoned his jacket and looked back at Slav. “Good luck!” He jumped.

Slav turned back to the fire once again. “I suppose it may be possible that we are not eaten,” he murmured to himself. He gripped the metal and slowly climbed over before plunging into the dark waters below.


	4. Chapter 3

Keith sat on the bank next to Shiro draining the water from his boots as the remnants of the ferry burned in the distance.  

James had his crew driving all the horses to the eastern bank where he stood barking orders and laughing with the dark haired woman, Nadia. They fished trucks and barrels from the black waters and drug them into the sand.

“Looks like you got nothin’ left!” Nadia yelled across the water. “We got the horses and supplies!” She wiped her glasses on the hem of her wet shirt with a laugh. “I’m still holdin you to that bet!”

Keith arched a brow and dusted off his pants as he rose to his feet. “Yeah,” he smiled and reached down to Shiro. “See ya there.”

Confused, Shiro took his hand. “What would you do that for? We’ve lost everything. Our tools, our equipment… My clothes.”

Keith held onto Shiro a few seconds longer before letting go and looking away. He started up the bank. “They’re on the wrong side of the river.” He paused and looked back with a smirk. “Come on.” He waved Shiro forward. “Let’s get you out of those pants.” His eyes darted downward before he turned and walked on.

Shiro pressed his hand to his chest in belated modesty as every ounce of blood in his made pooled in his cheeks.

Somehow they managed to drag themselves to the nearby city of Abydos where they found a room for the night.

A room in the most basic sense. Dirt floor and blanket covered straw drew shrieking gasps from Lance. But eventually, they all managed to fall asleep.

  
  
  
  


“I don’t want six camels! I only want five!” Lance tried again. “Please! Only these!”

Keith watched Lance uselessly flailing his arms at the merchant and sighed. Matt had taken Shiro to find clothing and Slav was… Somewhere. So Keith supposed he was in charge of Lance in the meantime. He clapped a hand on Lance’s shoulder, “Just pay the man so we can leave.”

Lance glared at him.. “Fine!” He handed over a few crumpled pound notes to the merchant. “But I’m being taken advantage of!”

Keith snorted and thanked the merchant.

Lance handed him three of the camels’ leads. “That was an actual robbery. And you’re an accomplice.”

Keith patted the nearest camel. “Ya know, we probably could have gotten them for free.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, didn’t you see the look he gave Shiro? We could have given him to him.”

Lance stopped and looked Keith up and down in shock before he burst out in laughter. “You actually made a joke!

Keith frowned. “I make lots of jokes.”

Lance wiped at his bruised right eye. “Sure. Right. Give him Shiro.”

“Who are giving Shiro to?”

Matt clapped his brother on the back knocking Lance into a camel.

Shiro kicked Lance in the shin as he came up behind Matt. “We’re not giving me to anyone.”

Lance squawked and looked at Matt. “You were supposed to find him some clothes. Just a shirt and pants. This is obscene.”

Keith could have sworn Shiro blushed before staring his brother down. “If you must know, we tried.”

“I had no problem. Matt had no problem.” Lance jabbed an accusatory finger at Keith. “Even the yank had no problem finding clothes that fit.”

Keith shoved Lance’s hand out of his face and took stock of Shiro in a grey galabeya. His very tight, galabeya. Keith swallowed. Normally a breezy, modest garment, Shiro had managed to make it look obscene. The grey fabric seemed absolutely stretched to its limit across his broad chest where his skinned showed through the low cut collar.

“Why aren’t you wearing any under dress?” Lance poked at Shiro’s peeking pectorals.

This time Shiro did blush. “I uh… Well, they didn’t fit my chest.”

“Nothing fit his chest,” Matt sighed. “Believe me. We tried.”

“Are you at least wearing trousers under there?” Lance tugged at the galabeya.

Shiro slapped his hand. “Of course I am! What do you take me for?”

“It looks good,” Keith tried to pretend his was interested in packing their newly purchased supplies onto the camel and not in the eyes on him. “He looks good.” He cleared his throat.

“I thought you wanted to sell him off for camels!” Lance cried.

Shiro looked at Keith with wide eyes. “Camels?”

It was Keith’s turn to blush. “It was a joke! Lance!” He turned to Shiro. “It was a joke!”

“I do not know what all of this is about,” Slav walked up through the middle of the camels and gracelessly clamored onto one. “But Shiro is not properly attired.” He tossed a tan and black shemagh at him. “This will reduce your chance of sunburn by 93%.”

Keith seized the opportunity. He tossed a bundle at Lance. Lance flailed and fumbled, but ultimately caught it. “What was that for?”

“We need to divvy up the supplies. Strap them to your ride there. We got a long ride ahead.”

Shiro scratched at a camel’s chin, a spirited young cow who seemed fond of him. “Just how long?”

“Well,” Keith tied a pack to the cow’s rump. “If we ride through the night, we can make it just in time.”

“In time for what?”

Keith tied an extra canteen to Shiro’s saddle.”To be shown the way.” He smiled at Shiro and offered his hand. “Need help?”

Shiro looked at Keith’s hand and smirked. “As you once pointed out,” he gripped saddle and stepped into the stirrup. “I’m not the indoor type.” He slung his leg over the side and sat easily in the saddle.   
Keith bit his lip and shook head. “Now who’s full of surprises?”

Shiro wrapped the shemagh around his neck with a quick toss and scritched his camel’s ears with a laugh.

Keith grabbed the camel next to him and hopped into the saddle with practiced ease. “Hyah!” And with a flick of the reigns, they were off.

  
  
  


As far as crossings go, Keith isn’t sure he’s ever had a better view than that of Shiro next to him. Not that he was watching. Shiro just happened to keep pace.

Unlike his brothers who seemed confounded by the entire idea of riding. Matt eventually got a handle on himself, but Lance…

After the third time he fell, Keith tied him to his saddle and stringed his camel to Matt’s.

“That way if you fall off, at least we’ll have your corpse,” Keith explained as he knotted the lead.

“It’s not my fault!” Lance huffed. Somehow he’d managed to find another sunhat at the bazaar before they left and it now sat crooked on his head and teetered dangerously with every protest. “This thing isn’t fit for humans!”

“Well, I’m sure it thinks the same about you.” Keith tugged the knot tight and slapped Lance’s shoulder unnecessarily hard, nearly unseating him.

Again.

As they rode on through the night, everyone but Keith eventually fell asleep on their mounts. Lance somehow sprawled himself across his saddle and drooped on Matt’s shoulder. Matt used his brother as a headrest and Slav snored inhumanly loud while mumbling indecipherable things from the rear.  

Shiro however maintained his upright posture, the only real indication of his being asleep was the sideways tilt of his head. Keith took the reigns from Shiro’s loose grip and held them in his own. He gave a little tug and guided the camel next to his own.

But the movement upset Shiro’s balance and before thinking better of it, Keith wrapped his arm around Shiro’s shoulders and caught him against his side. Shiro nuzzled against Keith’s neck unconsciously brushing his full lips against Keith’s dusty skin.

Despite the heat in his cheeks, Keith didn’t move. Instead he allowed himself a lingering look at the moon painting silver highlights across Shiro’s handsome face.

A whinny in the distance cut his indulgence short.

Nearby on a familiar plateau a small group of horses and black robed riders watched the little caravan.

Gently, Keith pulled his arm from Shiro and steadied him in his seat before urging his bull forward with a few clicks of the tongue.

A dawn approached, they found themselves on a rocky barren plain at the base of two bluffs. Keith pulled to stop.

Shiro ran his hand through his hair and glanced over at Keith with a sleepy smile.

Keith sat up straighter and ignored the urged to grin back. Instead he nodded and turned back to face south. “Mornin’.”

“Why have we stopped?”

Keith opened his mouth to reply when the loud rumble of an approaching horses interrupted him. He frowned at the lead rider.

“Good morning, Keith!” James laughed as he urged his horse forward. “I see you got your team in top condition.” He nodded at Lance and Matt who were desperately trying to undo the knot in the lead.

Keith tightened his grip. “We’ll manage.”  
A restless chestnut rode up next to James. “Why’re we stopping?”

James took Nadia’s hand and kiss the back with a wink. “Patience, my dear.” He pointed south. “We’re about to be shown the way.”  
“Don’t think I forgot about our bet, Kogane.” Nadia looked Keith’s camel over with a smirk.

“Of course not,” Keith replied without looking.

As the first rays of sun breached the horizon, the landscape before them shifted like the surface of a pool. The seemingly endless barren plain wavered and fell away revealing a ruined city nestled in the sand and surrounded by cliffs.

“Hamunaptra…” Shiro breathed barely containing his awe. He blinked once, twice and laughed to himself before pulling his reigns and urging his camel forward with a shout.

Shiro’s urgency seemed to flip a switch in the onlookers. As soon as Shiro was off, James and Keith were on his heels. Followed by the thundering hooves of the rest of the crew.

Shiro glanced over his shoulder and laughed again. “Come on!” His camel bleated and galloped faster toward the ruined wall.

He could hear Matt and Lance cheering him on from behind as Shiro into Hamunaptra ahead of the rest.

  
  
  


"Angle it just so…" Shiro smiled at Keith while he settled the mirror in place.

Keith bit back a laugh at Shiro's excitement. "Why are we going in here again?" He swung a thick rope around the base of a broken obelisk.

"See that there?" Shiro hopped off stone slab and pointed to a jackal headed statue. "That's the statue of Anubis. And" he made his way over to where Matt and Lance were fussing with another bronze mirror. "You have to catch the sun, guys."  He turned back to Keith. "The legs of the statue go deep underground. And according to the research conducted by the Marmora Institute, that is where we will find a hidden compartment."

Keith slung the end of the rope around itself hitting Slav as he walked by.

"American criminal!"

Keith ignored him. "And what will we find in this secret chamber."

Shiro came up behind him with a grin. "The Book if Amun-Ra!"

Keith turned and looped the end of the rope around Shiro and them himself pulling them flush.

Shiro swallowed hard suddenly very aware how close Keith was. And how hard his chest was and how thick his eyelashes were and…

"Ready to show me your mirror trick?" Keith wrapped one arm around Shiro's waist and tugged the rope with the other. And with a smirk, he dropped them into an opening. He expertly guided them to stone floor and pulled the knot free. Shafts of sunlight highlighted his sharp features and cast a glow in his thick black hair. Shiro blushed and stepped back diverting his gaze. "We're standing in a room that no one has entered in over 3,000 years."

Keith laughed. "Yeah, well I guess that's why it's so dusty."

Shiro smiled to himself and moved across the room to a tilted bronze mirror. "Are you ready for ancient ingenuity?" He wiped the cobwebs away and slanted the mirror to catch the light.

Keith laughed as the chamber filled with light. "That's amazing, Shiro." He looked over at Shiro leaning against the bronze frame and walked over to him. Keith reached behind his back and pulled a leather bundle free. "This is for you." He looked up at Shiro with a blush. "I, uh, borrowed it from our American friends."

Shiro pulled the tie and let Keith unroll the bundle revealing an array of archeological tools. "Th-Thank you."

Keith scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, well… I thought you might need them or want them when you, ya know…" He made a hammer motion with his hands. "For science. Or-Or history." He rolled back up.

Shiro took the bundle and pressed it against his chest.

"Are you dead?" Lance yelled from above. "Or can we climb down now?"

Keith jumped back from Shiro. "Yeah! Yeah, we're dead!"

"Well, that's bloody brilliant!" Lance called back. "I suppose that makes me a medium, doesn't it? I'll just ask the spirits where the treasure is!"

"Will you just climb down already?" Matt yelled.

“I will go down next!” Slav proclaimed loudly. He grabbed the roped and inched down into chamber but stopping short of touching the ground. “American Criminal! Check for bugs! I hate bugs! There is a 89% probability that I will have to call this search off if there are bugs!”

Keith inched the bridge of his nose. “There are no bugs.” he sighed and shook the end of the rope.

“No! No!” Slav jumped down the last foot and rolled off the side of the platform. He scrambled to his feet and glared at Keith. “Ya kalb!”

“Do you know what this is. Keith?” Shiro was leaned over a stone slab still clinging to his bundle. “It’s a sah-netjer!”

“A what?”

“A-A preparation room!”

“Preparation for what?”

Matt hopped down with a huff. “Mummies.” He held the rope steady for Lance. “This is where they made the mummies, my good sir.”

“That’s right!” Shiro moved to Keith’s side and pulled him over to the slabe. “Here is where they would put the body for preparation. You see, first thing they did was-”

“That’s all well and good,” Lance set an unlit torch on the slab. “But we’re looking for a book, aren’t we?”

Shiro gave him an unamused look. “You really were raised with better manners.”

Keith grabbed up the torch and took the match from Lance’s fingers. “Thanks.”

‘Lance crossed his arms and opened his mouth the speak, but Matt clapped him on the back and peeked around his shoulder. “I think what Lance is trying to say is, we should try and get the chamber before dark. That’s all.” He handed Lance a let torch.   
Shiro led them from the sah-netjer down a narrow hall until it got too dim and Keith stepped forward with his torch. The passage was thick with dust and cobwebs. Faint designs could be made out on the walls. Keith reached out to touch the stone and a loud skittering sound startled them from above. Keith jumped back against Shiro and pulled for his revolver.

“God!” Lance looked back and forth. “What was that? What was it?”

“Sounds like… Bugs,” Matt answered while looking upward.

“Bugs!” Slav rushed forward and wrapped himself around Shiro’s waist. “I hate bugs!”

Shiro pried at Slav’s fingers with a huff. “You’ll be-” He pulled free with a growl. “Fine!” He glared at Slav. “There are no bugs.”

Slav nodded up at him with wide eyes.

Shiro turned back around and followed Keith into the dark.

“You know,” Slav scrambled to catch up with him. “You look very lovely in the firelight.”

Shiro walked faster.

Keith stopped ahead and peered into a wide chamber. He looked back and waved them forward. One by one they ducked into the chamber. Small bits of sunlight filtered down from the above illuminating the slanted base of a statue. Long black and gold legs led up past where they could see. Giant remnants of once grand pillars lay in pieces all around.

“This is it!” Shiro rushed forward and ran his hand along the base. His long fingers traced over the hieroglyphs. “The chamber should be here!” He turned back to Keith with a smile.

A loud groan resonated through the room followed by another round of skittering. Voices echoed through the dark. Keith grabbed Shiro’s hand and pulled out his gun. Matt and Lance pressed themselves against the crooked pedestal. Slav gripped his satchel close and whimpered.

The rustling grew louder the voices more defined.

Keith gave Shiro’s hand one final squeeze before letting go. He took a deep breath and stepped around the corner and aimed his pistol right in the face of…

“James?”

“Kogane.” James smirked over the barrel of his gun at Keith.

Shiro peeked around the corner and let out a breath. “You scared us!”

“Likewise,” Kinkade answered.

Lance sauntered past Shiro and aimed a small pistol at James’ crew. “What are you doing down here?”

“This is our area,” Nadia answered.

“I think not,” Matt chimed in pulling a revolver from his belt.

“Where did you two even get guns?” Shiro stared at them.

“That’s my tool kit,” Ina pointed at the bundle in Shiro’s belt.

Shiro grabbed the tool kit and held it to his chest.

“Nope!” Keith aimed his gun at her. “Don’t think so.”  
“Perhaps you all should be leavin now,” Nadia pointed her gun at Keith.

“Push off! We got here first!” Lance shot back.

“This here is our statue, friend,” James aimed his pistol at Keith.  
“I don’t see your name written on it… Pal,” Keith pulled a second gun from his holster.

Shiro shifted behind him. He kicked a rock with his toe and did a double take when it fell through a crack. There was chamber below.

He had an idea.

“There are only five of you and 15 of me,” James sneered. “I don’t think the odds are in your favor.”  
Keith scoffed. “I’ve had worse.”   
“Me too!” Lance added and glared at James.

Keith looked at Matt.

Matt nodded.

Shiro stepped between them and put his hand on Keith’s wrist.”Now…” he looked over at James. “Now… Children.” He gently pushed on Keith’s wrist and lowered his gun. James’ group lowered theirs. “If we are going to play together. Then we must learn how to share.” He locked eyes with Keith. “There are other places to dig.”

Keith nodded and tucked his pistols into their holsters. “Fine.” He nodded at James. “Enjoy your statue.”

  
  
  


“Okay,” Shiro turned away from the inscription and smiled at his brothers. “Just a little more left. Yes. There. Perfect.”  
Matt wiped his forehead. “What are we doing, Shiro?”

Lance draped himself across the pedestal he’d pushed over. “Are you trying to kill us?”

“Nonsense,” Shiro turned his smile on Keith who reentered the room with three long rods. “Perfect!” Shiro gave a rod to each of the three and directed them to stand on the stone pedestals and dig into the ceiling.. “According to the hieroglyphs over there, we should come up right between the statue’s legs.”

Keith paused and looked down at Shiro. “You’re sneaky. Didn’t see that coming.”  
“Not ‘sneaky’,” Shiro feigned innocence. “More like, ‘resourceful’.”

Keith jabbed at the ceiling. “Call it what you want.” He gave it a hard thrust. “I like it.”

“Yes, well,” Lance stabbed at the stone next to him. “Those beastly Americans aren’t going too.” He looked over at Keith with a wink. “No offense.”

“I can’t wait to see the look on those Yanks’ faces when they open an empty chamber,” Matt laughed. “Oh right…” He looked over at Keith and smiled. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Keith gave the ceiling another jab.

“Wait,” Shiro paused and looked around the chamber. “Where is that handsy little warden?”

  
  
  


Slav clamored through a narrow passage knocking debris out of his path using his torch. While wandering behind the rest of group, a yellow glint had caught his eye, so he broke off with a plan to find an extra percentage.

Slav stuck his torch in first clearing the passage of anything potentially crawling within and then crawling in himself.

He found himself in a long ornate passageway faded paintings muralling the walls, but it was pockmarked mosaic inlaid with blue gold that caught his eye. “Ah yes,” he chuckled to himself. “This will fetch a mighty fine price.” He pried one of the pieces free. “Since there is a 75% chance that they will attempt to cut me out…” He pried another piece free and stuffed it in his bag. “I will simply insure my portion.”

A faint skitter echoed through the forgotten hall. Slav froze in place with his knife under the gold and hand holding the torch. Another skitter sounded from behind. Slav swallowed hard. “Oh please…” With barely contained horror, Slav turned his head. And there just at the edge of the firelight stood the largest scarab beetle he’d ever seen. He let out a whimper and threw himself against the wall. “B-Bugs!” The beetle charged straight forward sharp pincers making short work of flesh, it sliced his ankle open and crawled inside the wound.

Slav screamed and fled into the darkness.

  
  
  


“Time to get us some treasure!” Nadia laughed. She stabbed at a seam in the base of the statue with a crowbar.

Ina put a hand on her shoulder. “That is unwise.”

Nadia frowned, but didn’t move. “Why’s that?”

“According to the information available,” she pointed at the hieroglyphs on the far wall, “I believe that we should enlist the help of the diggers.” She nodded at the work crew they’d brought along.

Nadia huffed and pulled the crowbar free. “Fine.” She thrust the crowbar at Kinkade. “Tell em to open it.” She took her place next to James.

Kinkade handed the crowbar to the foreman, Sendak. He shouted at four workers and pointed them to the panel. The men looked at each other nervously as they took of their own bars. Sendak urged them to dig. They stabbed at the stone driven on by their foreman’s commands.

“Come on!” James shouted. “Have them go faster!”

Sendak shouted commands. The scrape of metal on stone sounded became urgent as the

diggers sped up their prodding become frantic beneath the calls of their foreman.

A pop and hiss were all the warning they got.

A white spray shot from the cracks in the stone as the panel fell away. The workers’ screamed as their flesh sloughed from their bones.

The rest of the men fled in horror.

The Americans stared wide eyed at the melted bodies at their feet.

  
  


Shiro sat cross legged in the sand next to Keith who sat on his pedestal with a skeptic look. “Let me get this straight,” Keith ran a hand through his hair. “They ripped out your guts and stuffed them in jars.”

Shiro nodded enthusiastically. “They’d take your heart out as well.”

After unsuccessfully jabbing at the ceiling for 45 minutes, Lance insisted he needed a break. He was ignored.

After another 15 minutes, Matt suggested that they rethink their strategy and that found them in a brainstorming session turned history lesson.

“Do we really need to know all of this, Shiro?” Lance asked from his place on the ground leaned against Matt’s pedestal while he watched Matt mill around the chamber poking at the ceiling with a makeshift probe.

Shiro ignored him and grinned up at Keith. “Do you know how they took out your brains?”

Keith crossed his arms and leaned close to Shiro. “Let me guess: your ear?”

Shiro laughed. “You really want to know?

Keith grinned and crossed his arms. “Shock me.”

“They took a searing hot, sharpened poker and shoved it right up your nostril.”

Keith chuckled. “Well, if we die here, don’t sign me up for mummification.”

Lance snorted. “Same here.”

“Oh come on,” Matt looked over his shoulder at his brother. “It’s not like they’ll find anything in there, Lance.” He poked at the ceiling absently.

A resounding crack shot through the room stone and debris rained down on the floor and a stone sarcophagus crashed to the ground.  

Keith and Shiro shot to their feet, Lance scrambled backwards with a shriek, and Matt started at his contraption wide-eyed.

Lance dusted his trousers and coughed. “What is it?”

“Oh my God!” Shiro slowly approached the sarcophagus. “A-A sarcophagus.”

Keith put a hand on Shiro’s shoulder and pulled him to a stop. They looked up at the gaping hole in the ceiling wary of any more falling debris.

Matt tossed his pole to the ground and let out a disbelieving laugh. “What is it doing here?”

Shiro ran his hand along the ridge. “Buried at the base of Anubis…” He brushed away the dust. “He must have been someone incredibly important.” He paused and looked at Keith. “Or... “  
“Or?” Lance probed.

Shiro looked back at the stone. “Or he did something very, very bad.”  He bit his lip and grabbed the bundle of tools from his belt unfurling them and grabbin a brush.

“Can you see a name?” Matt pulled a torch from its base and held it over the lid. “Who is it, Shiro?”

Lance popped his head over Keith’s shoulder. “Was he rich?”

Keith shoved him back.

“I-I don’t know…” Shiro frowned down at the nameplate. Deep scratches marred the hieroglyphs. “The name was marked out.”

Lance leaned over the edge and blew the sand away revealing a round silver plate. “What about this? What’s this?”

Shiro ran his fingers along the center of the silver where the cutout of perfect star framed a carved scarab.

Keith blew more sand away. “It looks like a lock.”  
“Well, I suppose they didn’t want whoever is in there getting out,” Lance propped his chin up on his elbows.

“It’s going to take at least a fortnight to get into this without a key,” Matt patted Shiro on the back.

“A key?” Shiro whispered to himself. “A key!” He turned around and ran to his brother’s duffle bag. “That’s what the man was talking about!”

Matt and Keith shared a look.

“The man on the boat!” Shiro grabbed the little black pentagon from the bag and ran back to the lock.

“Are you ok, Shiro?” Lance squinted at him. “Did a rock hit you?”

Shiro rolled his eyes and set the box on the lid. He settled his fingertips on each little bump and pressed down. The box opened up in a perfect star. With a smile he set it in the lock.

It fit perfectly.

Keith watched Shiro’s eyes light up with a smile. “Shiro, how-”

Screams echoed off the walls of the passage behind them.

Keith grabbed his gun and Shiro’s hand and pulled him out into the hall with Matt on his heels. Lance grabbed the key and followed them with his tiny pistol drawn. In the hall they found Slav running at them holding his face and screaming.

Keith pushed Shiro behind him as the warden ran past and headlong into the wall. His screams stopped instantly.

Keith let go of Shiro and nodded to Matt to move forward. Carefully, the pair crept up to where Slav lay motionless on the floor. Matt slowly kneeled next to him and looked him up and down.

Keith nudged him with the tip of his boots.

Matt gave him a look.

Keith shrugged.

Matt turned back to Slav’s body and took a deep breath. He pressed his fingers into the sweaty flesh on his neck searching for a pulse. He looked up at Keith and shook his head.

Keith turned back to Shiro and Lance. “He’s dead.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that I used a resurrection spell from Temple Text 373 and not the spell from the film.  
> This isn't from lack of trying, I tried to find a copy of the script that included the Egyptian.  
> I apologize.  
> The curse is the same except the actual words said.

“What do you think killed him?” Shiro wrapped a rough woolen blanket around his shoulders. 

Matt poked at their fire with what was left of his pole. “Did you ever see him eat?”

Lance snorted and leaned back on a broken pillar.

Keith walked up from behind holstering a pistol. He let out a heavy sigh and sat on the pillar next to Shiro. 

“What is it?” Shiro handed him a cup of water. Keith let his fingers brush the back of Shiro’s hand as he took the tin cup. Shiro blushed, but Keith didn’t pull away right away. 

“Did something happen?” Matt handed him a piece of jerky and perched next to the fire. “I saw you talking to the Americans.”

Keith pulled his hand away from Shiro's and cleared his throat. “Seems like they had a loss of their own today.”

Lance sat up and peeked around Shiro. “What happened?”   
Keith took a long drink before answering. “Four of their diggers were…Um... Well, melted.”

“Melted!” Lance shrieked. "How?"

“What?” Matt gasped.

Keith shrugged. “Some ancient booby trap or something." 

“Pressurized salt acid.” Shiro shook his head. “How awful…” 

“Hold on,” Matt pointed at him. “So you knew there was stuff like that?”

“Of course. I mean…” Shiro tapped his chin. “I supposed it was a possibility. There were similar traps in other locations. Most notably-”

“No! No! No!” Lance leaned over Shiro’s lap. “It’s clearly the curse.”

Shiro rolled his eyes. “There is no curse.”

Keith nudged him and smirked. “So you don’t believe in curses?”

Shiro laughed. “Of course not.” 

Keith leaned closer with an arched eyebrow, “What do you believe in?”   
“Well…” Shiro tightened his grip on his blanket. “I believe in science. Rationality. If I can see it and I can touch it, then it’s real.”

“Touch, huh?” Keith leaned closer still. 

Shiro’s gaze darted to Keith’s lips and back to his royal blue eyes. Heat rose in his cheeks as he nodded. 

Suddenly, shouts rang out from the American camp. Horses whinied and gunfire echoed off the ancient stone. Keith sprang to his feet and muttered a curse. He pulled a gun from one of his holsters and shoved it into Shiro’s hand. “Take this. Stay here.” And he ran toward the chaos.

“Stay here, Shiro!” Matt ran after Keith with his weapon drawn. 

“Wait!” Shiro called after them. “Don’t you just leave me here! I’m coming too!”

Lance stumbled to his feet. “Shiro! The man said to stay here!” 

But Shiro was already gone. 

“Good God,” Lance muttered. He blew out a breath and ran his hand through his hair before grabbing his own pistol. “They’re going to get me killed!” He ran after his brother. 

Riders clothed in all black rode around the American’s camp upending tables and setting fire to the tents. Nadia, Ina, and Kinkade were in various states of shooting and reloading in the center of the camp. James stood on top of a ruined platform with a half shaven face raining gunfire down on the riders below.

Keith jumped into the fray shooting a charging invader without hesitation and ran toward another. Matt sprung from behind a pillar and punched another in face taking the torch from his hand and burning another. Shiro looked around the pandemonium wide-eyed. 

“Shiro!” Lance shouted as he ran up from their camp. Shiro turned in time to see black clad rider charging at him with a sword drawn. Lance squeezed off a shot and hit the man knocking him from his horse. The brothers exchanged surprised looks before bursting into breathless laughter. 

“Shiro!” Another shout came from behind. Keith jumped from the base of a broken pillar and tackled a rider. Both rolled to their feet immediately. The one in black pulled a sword. Keith shot it out of their hands. He swung hard at their face knocking the ghuthra away. 

Bright blue eyes and tangled silver locks tumbled free framing a decidedly beautiful face. Pink crescent tattoos set high on her sculpted cheekbones. She smirked at Keith and wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth.  

“Shit,” Keith muttered and pulled another gun. 

She pulled another sword from her waist and knocked the revolver away. Keith dodged her next blow with a somersault. He pulled a stick from the spilled case of dynamite and dodged her next swing. He dropped down and caught the fuse in the flames of a cooking fire. He jumped back to his feet and glared at the woman. “Try me,” he panted. 

The woman looked at him and then the sizzling fuse on the dynamite stick. “Enough!” she shouted. “Tarajue!” The black clad riders fell back at once. She met Keith’s gaze and lifted her chin. “We will not shed anymore blood tonight.” A rider handed her the reigns of a solid black steed. “But you must leave.” She mounted the horse in one swift motion. “Leave this place or die.” She nodded to the riders and wiped another trickle of blood from her lips. “You have one day.” She snapped her reigns and in a cloud of dust, the black clad riders were gone. 

A feeling of dread rose in Keith’s stomach as he watched them go. With a frown he pulled the fuse from the dynamite and stomped the spark out with his boot.

“Keith!” 

Keith turned around just as Shiro leapt over a corpse running at him with a worried expression. Keith couldn't help but smile at the sight. This man…

Shiro stopped just short of Keith and swallowed hard. “Are you alright?”

Keith chuckled to himself until he noticed the purpling skin on Shiro's jaw. He reached up and turned Shiro’s chin in his hand. “Looks like you’ll have a bruise there.” 

Shiro put his hand over the mark with a sheepish smile.

“What happened?” Keith tilted Shiro’s face the other way looking for any other injuries.

“I uh...I was punched.” 

Keith faltered.

“But I shot him,” Shiro smiled. 

“Good,” Keith let his fingers linger along Shiro’s jawline. “That’ll save me the trouble.”

James ran up to Nadia and slung his arm around her. “See! That proves it!”

“Seti’s fortune’s gotta be here if they want it that bad!” Nadia laughed. 

“For them to protect it like this, you know there must be treasure down there,” Kinkade crossed his arms and nodded. 

“No,” Ina interrupted. “These are a desert people, James.”

“So?” James laughed.

“What she means,” Keith answered. “They value water; not gold.” He wrapped an arm around Shiro’s waist. 

The Americans nervous exchanged looks. 

“Then,” James stepped forward, “For the sake of safety why don’t we combine the camps? Huh? Just for the night.”

 

It took an hour for the Americans to get their camp back into order and although they shared a meal, Keith insisted that they keep their distance. 

“Hey! Look here!” Lance almost tripped over Matt’s leg as he returned from his latest excursion into “Yankee Territory”. “Glenlivet,” he presented the scotch bottle to Shiro with a smile. “Twelve years old.” He awkwardly stepped over the pillar to sit. He missed the seat and landed on the ground with a huff.

Shiro laughed. “Been helping yourself?”   
“No!” Lance grabbed the bottle back. “I  _ borrowed _ it. They may be a bunch of bastards, but they have good taste.” He took a swig and handed it back to Shiro. 

Shiro stared at the bottle and chewed his lip. 

“No!” Matt laughed from the other side of the fire. “Shiro, my dear, sweet brother, I forbid it.”

“Why’s that?” Keith tossed another piece of wood onto the fire and sat down by Shiro.

“Taka-Kashi can’t hold his liquor,” Lance snickered from the ground.   

Shiro frowned at him. “Look who’s talking.”

“It’s true,” Matt shuffled his blanket around. “Two drinks and he’s half under.”

“Really now?” Keith reached for the bottle.

Shiro pulled it back. He took a deep breath and turned the bottle up eliciting a cackle from Matt and squeaking laughter from Lance. Shiro pulled the bottle back with a gasp and cough.

Keith took the bottle and took a drink. “You alright, tough stuff?”

Matt laid back on his pack with a snort. 

Lance fell next to his brother shaking with laughter. 

“I’m fine,” Shiro coughed. He cleared his throat and wiped at his eyes.

Keith caught sight of the bruise on his chin as he took another swig. He set the bottle aside and grabbed Shiro’s hand. “Come on,” he tugged Shiro to his feet. “I’m going to teach how to throw a punch.”   
Shiro laughed and let Keith pull him across the sand. “Oh my…” he wobbled to stop and let Keith position him. Warmth flooded his chest as he watched Keith’s slender fingers guide his hips to the proper angle. 

Or maybe it was the scotch.

Shiro tried to concentrate on Keith’s words and not the way the firelight shone on his face or the way his hands felt on his arm. 

“Ok,” Keith looked him over and raised his hands. “Let me see what ya got and we’ll go from there.”

Shiro nodded and took a swing, a very gentle swing, at Keith’s hand. 

Keith blinked up at him in disbelief. 

Shiro caught himself leaning to the side. Was sand always this hard to stand on?

“Shiro,” Keith shook his head and put his hand on his hips. 

Shiro tugged on the end of his sleeve nervously. “I… I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not gonna hurt me.” He put his hands on Shiro’s waist and guided him back to his position. “Now… Do it again.”

Shiro watched Keith walk back to his spot. Were trousers meant to fit that tight? The dark brown fabric clung to each well developed muscle in Keith’s legs. His belt and holster crisscrossed against his slender hips. Just the perfect size for Shiro to grip… 

“What are you waiting for?” Keith laughed.

Shiro blushed at his own thoughts. “R-Right…” he stepped forward and swung at Keith’s open hand. The impact pushed Keith back a few inches, but he held his stance. “Ha! That’s it.”  He put Shiro back into place. “Ok, now try this.” He folded Shiro’s knuckles into a different position and moved his arm up stepping against Shiro's chest. 

He said a few other things, but Shiro wasn't listening. He was transfixed by the newfound knowledge that Keith had freckles. 

Freckles. 

Faint little speckles across the bridge of his nose. And his nose! It was so cute. He giggled to himself. 

Keith arched a brow and stepped back into position. “Now come on. I want you to mean it.” 

“Oh!” Shiro looked over at his fist. “I definitely mean it.” He swung. He missed. 

Keith caught him around the waist and pulled him up before he fell.  Shiro let out a loud peel of giggles and he straightened himself up using Keith as a crutch. “That was unexpected.” 

He sat down too quickly next to Lance’s sleeping form and plucked the scotch bottle from the sand. 

Keith watched with an amused look as Shiro turned the bottle back up. “Blegh!” He shoved it at Keith. “That’s disgusting.”

Keith laughed and took another drink. “Totally disgusting.”

“I told you I could hold my liquor.”

Keith hummed. “You did.” He set the bottle to the side. And reached for a blanket to cover Shiro with. “But tell me something else.”

Shiro let Keith position him against the broken pillar and cover his legs. “Hhhmmm?”   
“What are you doing here?”

Shiro smiled. “I know. I know." He leaned in. "You’re wondering, ‘what is a place like me doing in a boy like this’.”

Keith settled beside Shiro with a laugh. “Yes. Exactly that.”

Shiro snuggled against Keith’s side with a giggle. “ Well.. See my parents died when I was very young. I was with them on the ship. And…” He nuzzled Keith’s shoulder. “That’s how I lost my arm.”

Keith put an arm around his shoulder and rubbed little shapes across his bicep. “How did you end up with these two?” He nodded at Matt and Lance sleeping across the way.

“Oh! Dr. Holt was on the rescue ship that picked me up.”

“Hold on… Dr. Samuel Holt? The explorer?”

Shiro nodded. “The Egyptologist. He felt sorry for me, so he took me home.” He yawned. “Lance’s mother was their niece. And she died in childbirth. So…” He looked up at Keith. “They took him in too.”

Keith pushed hair out of Shiro’s eyes. “Makes sense. But… It doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

Shiro frowned and sat up straight. “Look, I know I only have one arm and-And I’m not some kind of adventure man like you or Dad but… I love Egypt and I want to be in the field, Keith! I’m smart and I'm tall and I can do things. And I am a proud… And I-I am proud of what I am.”

Keith smiled indulgently. “And that is?”

“I’m a librarian, Keith,” he leaned forward. “I’m a damn fine librarian.” 

Keith laughed and wrapped his hand around Shiro’s neck. “I bet you are.”

Shiro nodded. “I’m the best in Cairo.”

Keith guided him closer. “Best in all of Cairo, huh?”

Shiro let his eyes fall shut with a sigh. Their lips were centimeters apart. Keith leaned in. And Shiro… Shiro fell against his shoulder sound asleep. 

Keith caught Shiro against his chest and laughed to himself. “You’re full of surprises, Shiro.” He sat back against the pillar and laid Shiro in his lap. He stroked the smooth skin along his cheeks and laughed again. “Full of surprises.”

  
  
  
  


When the sun rose, it was back to business. 

The Americans had taken their place at the base of Anubis determined to find what the diggers had died for. 

Nadia draped an arm around James as she watched the workers pry the chest from the chamber. “Whatcha you think is in there?” 

James crossed his arms and frowned at the chest. “All I know is, it better be good.”

Under Sendak’s direction, the workers sat the chest in the middle of the chamber. The Joshua wood was darkened with age almost blending with the black painted panels on its sides. Hieroglyphs and gods were carved along the edges and highlighted with faded gold and white. Ina knelt in front of the box brushing away centuries of dust. Nadia sat next to her dragging James by the hand. Kinkade settled to her left. 

The workers murmured amongst themselves until their foreman silenced them with a series of harsh commands. 

“It says that there is a curse on this chest,” Ina brushed away the thickest layer of dust. 

Nadia rolled her eyes. “Curse, my ass.”

“I don’t care about some curse,” James tapped the lid, “We’re here for money, Ina. Not hokum and superstition.”

“Perhaps we should care,” Kinkade brushed his fingers along the carving. “Belief in this magic is just as strong today as it was 3,000 years ago.”

“Fine,” James conceded. “What does it say then?”

“Death will come on swift wings to those who open this chest,” Ina read carefully.

As the last word faded, a groan echoed through the ruined chamber. Guttural growls rode in on a strong gust of wind. The workmen’s torches flickered and their murmereds turned to shouts. The workmen ran from the chamber clamoring over each other in their efforts to get away. 

Nadia shook her head. “Superstitious bastards.”

“I’ll go after them,” Sendak ran after the crew calling their names and growling curses.

“Keep going, Ina.” James leaned closer. 

Ina nodded. “It says, ‘There is one, the undead, who, if brought back to life is bound by sacred law to consummate this curse'.”

“Pfft,” Nadia adjusted her glasses, “Sounds like we’ll be fine as long as we don’t bring anyone back from the dead.”

“He will kill all who open this chest,” Ina continued, “And assimilate their organs and fluids.”

“Well, that’s tops,” James laughed. “What else?”

“And in so doing, he will regenerate and no longer be the undead, but a plague upon this earth.” Ina looked over a Kinkade. Kinkade looked at James. 

“We didn’t come all this way just to look at it, did we?” James ran a hand through his hair. “Let’s open it.”

Nadia reached behind them and grabbed the pry bar. “Now or never.”

James and Kinkade stood and grabbed the edges of the lid. Ina stayed on her knees. 

“One! Two!” Nadia shoved the edge of the bar under the lip of the lid. “Three!”

All at once the three pulled the lid from the chest in flurry of splintering wood and ancient dust. Nadia dropped her bar and waved at the dust. “Ugh!”

James and Kinkade set the lid aside and knelt next to Ina who was staring wide-eyed at cotton wrapped bundle. “It exists…” she muttered to herself as she unwrapped the archaic cloth. 

“What is it?” Kinkade asked.

“Where’s the treasure?” James demanded. 

“It’s the Book of the Dead,” Ina lifted the heavy tome from its cradle with careful hands. She ran her fingers across the delicate carvings etched across the thick iron cover pausing to marvel at star shaped indentation with scarab cut into the center.

“A book?” Nadia deadpanned. “A stupid  _ book _ ?”

“Where’s the treasure?” James repeated. He rose to his feet and growled in frustration. 

“I think this might be something,” Kinkade looked over Ina’s shoulder at the book in her hands. 

“‘Something?’” James scoffed. He kicked the side of the chest. “I wouldn’t pay-” He was cut off by the sound of the front of the box hitting the sand. 

Nadia slowly kneeled and shoved the panel aside. “Now that’s more like it.” 

James dropped down next to her and let out a huff of laughter. “Well, now…” He reached past her and into the compartment where four canopic jars sat. Three were in pristine condition each topped with a perfectly cut animal head; the fourth, human headed one, had collapsed on itself in the corner. 

“There’s the treasure,” Kinkade smiled over James’ shoulder.

Each took a jar from the chest laughing and chattering about how much they’d sell it for back in Boston. 

Ina, however, was still marveling at the book.

  
  
  
  
  


Keith and Matt hauled the wooden coffin out of the sarcophagus and set it against the far wall with a thud. 

Shiro beamed in the torchlight as he took stock of casket before him. “I can’t believe this is happening!” He grabbed the key from his pack. I’ve been dreaming about this since I was a little boy!”

“You dream about dead men?” Lance arched his brow and leaned against the wall. 

Shiro ignored him. “Look! Keith!” He bent over and squinted at the coffin. “The sacred spells have been scratched off.”

“What does that mean?” Keith asked. 

“He was condemned not only in this life, but the afterlife as well,” Shiro stood straight and fit the key into the lock. 

“Tough break,” Keith smiled. 

“Let’s find out who he then," Matt took the key from Shiro and tried to twist the lock. It creaked slowly to the left. With a huff, he waved Lance over to hold the side steady and with both hands, Matt cranked the lock. A hiss and a loud pop sounded through the room. 

"Alright," Matt moved to the side. "Now pull."

“Lance!” Keith huffed, “You’re pushing!”

Lance moved his hands. “Oh…” 

“On three!” Keith grunted. They all grabbed at the edge of the lid. “One!” They braced their bodies. “Two!” Keith took a deep breath. “Three!”

All three men tugged on the lid until it gave way. The lid sprang from the coffin and landed at Shiro’s feet. A corpse, flesh rotted and congealed, burst from the coffin stopping short when its wrappings caught on dried adipocere. 

The men jumped backwards, Lance fell over the lid in and scrambled to his feet. “Good Lord,” he panted with a hand on his chest. 

“I hate it when these things do that,” Shiro laughed breathlessly and ran his hand through his hair. Keith caught his eyes and laughed.

Lance dusted off his trousers. “You mean to tell me that this sort of thing happens often?”

Shiro shrugged and walked past the lid toward the corpse. “On occasion.”

“And you couldn’t have bloody warned me about it?” 

Matt frowned at the mummy. “I know I’m not the expert here, but is it supposed to look like that?”   
Shiro took a torch from the wall and peered closer. “I’ve never seen a mummy look like this before.”  He made a face. “He’s still… Still…”

“Juicy,” Lance said disgustedly. 

“Yes.” Shiro peered closer and angled his torch. “It’s like he’s still decomposing.” He frowned at the dried fluids holding the bandage to the coffin. “None of this is right.”  He stood back and exchanged worried looks with Matt. “Have you ever heard of anything like this?”

Matt shook his head. “Not even Dad talked about this.”

“What do you make of this?” Keith stepped away from the coffin and crouched by the lid. He looked up at Shiro with apprehension. “It looks like…”

Shiro knelt next to Keith and handed off his torch to Matt. He stared at the lid taking in each gouge and scratch. “Fingernails.” He looked back at Keith. “These scratches were made with fingernails.”

“Christ,” Matt muttered. He pointed above the scratches. “What’s that there?”

“It’s a message,” Shiro reached out and traced along the jagged edges of the hieratic. 

“What does it say?” Keith leaned close.

“It says… Death,” Shiro sat back on his heels. “Death is only the beginning.” 

  
  
  
  


Shiro turned the slick black shell over his in hand as he walked past the thick canvas tents of the American camp. He’d spent hours exploring every nook of the coffin looking for any clues of the disgraced man’s identity only to come up short. He was sorely missing his library resources when a loud metallic ting pulled him from his thoughts. 

The blonde American woman, Ina perhaps,  was glaring at the brunette. The brunette, Nadia, wasn’t it?, was pointing a revolver at black metal rectangle on the ground. Ina picked up the black rectangle and held it to her chest with a frown. “I told you not to do that,” she said evenly.

Nadia sighed and stuffed her gun back into its holster. “Well how else are we gonna open it?”

Shiro realized the black object was a book. A black, metal, book with a star shaped lock on the cover. Nadia realized he was watching. “You need something?” 

Shiro shook his head and smiled pleasantly. “Not at all. Maybe you just need a key to open that book.” The women exchanged a look and Shiro walked away. 

A bonfire burned high in the center of the camp where Shiro’s party had gathered. James and Kinkade walked up and sat across the fire from Keith. James smiled and made a show of laying the canopic jars into a crate. “I’m sure you heard about our find today,” he laughed. 

Keith rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Congratulations on your jar of livers.” Shiro sat next to Keith and handed him the shell he’d been looking at. “What’s this?”

“Scarab skeletons,” Shiro wiggled his eyebrows. “I found several of them in the coffin.”

“Ah yes,” James laughed. “Your gooey ol mummy.”

Nadia came up behind him and laughed. “Maybe if you dry him out you can use him for firewood.”

Shiro cleared his throat and continued. “Scarabs are flesh-eaters.” He gave Keith a mischievous smile. “They can stay alive for years feasting on a corpse.” 

Lance threw his head back. “Some of us are trying to eat, Shiro.”

Matt moved over and picked a shell from Shiro’s palm. “He was alive in there.” He held the little skeleton up and looked it over. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” Shiro shifted. “It appears our juicy friend was alive when they started eating on him.”

“Wait,” Keith held up his hand. “He had time to carve those words in there.” He looked over at Shiro. “

Shiro nodded. “They ate him very slowly.”

Lance set his bowl down and glared at Shiro. “And they say that you’re the good one.”

Keith laughed. “So was this all part of the standard mummification package?”

Shiro hummed. “No, sorry.” 

Keith laughed again. “Then what’s it about?”   
“Well,” Shiro sat back. “From what I’ve read, it seems like he was the recipient of the Hom-Dai.”

“What’s that?” Kinkade asked.

Shiro leaned over and looked at Kinkade with smirk. “The most feared of all ancient curses.”

James groaned. “Not another curse.” Kinkade chuckled.

“It was reserved for only the evil of blasphemers,” Shiro paused. “Although… I thought it was a hypothetical. I’ve never heard of it actually being used before.”

“Why not?” Keith asked. “That bad?”

“Well,” Shiro bit his lip and tapped his chin. “They never used it because they were afraid of it. “

“Afraid of it?” Lance leaned over. “How so?”   
“It’s written that if a victim of the Hom-Dai should ever rise, he’d bring with him the ten plagues of Egypt.”

“Hold on,” Nadia looked back at James then to Shiro. “Rise? As in come back to life?”   
Shiro nodded. “Right.”

“What are the ten plagues of Egypt?” Lance asked. 

Matt flicked his forehead. “In the Bible, Lance. When God punishes the Pharaoh for Moses. Locusts, hail, darkness, first born; the whole lot.”

Lance rubbed the spot on his forehead. “Well, how am I supposed to know?”

“So what did he do to deserve all this?” Kinkade asked. 

Shiro shrugged. “I’m not sure. I haven’t been able to find anything to even tell me who he is.”

Lance wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. “Probably got caught snogging the pharaoh's daughter.”

Matt snorted. “I suppose that’s how you’d go then.”

Lance hunkered down on his pack. “Afraid so, Matthew. I cannot be tamed.”

James stood suddenly and stretched. “That’s enough of the ghost stories. Let’s get some shut eye.”

Murmurs of agreement  sounded from around the fire. One by one each party drifted away to sleep. 

Except Shiro. 

He lay on his blanket, eyes closed, only occasionally peeking, until he was certain everyone had fallen asleep. 

Even Keith.

Then he slipped out of the firelight and into the shadows of Ina’s tent. At the foot of pallet, he found his target. Stamping down his childish urge to giggle, Shiro carefully swept the black, metal book up and pressed it against his chest. As quietly as he could manage, Shiro set the book on a low table by the fire. He reached over to Matt’s pack and made eye contact with Keith. 

“That’s called stealing,” Keith sat up and smirked. 

Shiro smiled and grabbed the key from Matt’s pack. “According you and Lance, it’s called borrowing.” 

Keith kneeled next to him with a laugh. “So what are we borrowing?” He squinted down at the book. “I thought the book of Amun-Ra was made out of gold.”   
Shiro opened the key. “It is.” He set it in the lock. “This isn’t the book of Amun-Ra.” He turned the key and the iron bars across the textblock sprang open with a click. “I think this is the Book of the Dead.”

Keith gave him a look. “That doesn’t sound like something we ought to be messing with.”

Shiro gave his a teasing smile. “It’s just a book, Keith.” He slowly opened the cover. “No harm ever came from reading a book.”

A gust of wind swept through the camp.

Keith looked at Shiro. “Sure.”

Shiro rolled his eyes and laughed. “Don’t start that again.”

“Fine,” Keith leaned over Shiro’s shoulder. “So what’s it say?”

“Amun-Ra…  Aum-Dei…” Shiro smiled as he formed the words following the hieroglyphics with his finger. “Ya-hey Tiy-soo Shish-poo en-ak ta-pak yin-qoo en-ak qes-aw-ak sia-qoo en-ak ‘ey-oot-ak wikh-aoo en-ak taa ya-Ra ya-wef-ek!”

A primordial scream resonated through the ruins. 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeyyyyyyy  
> Sorry for the delay in getting this out. I have been working on several projects and time is slippery.
> 
> I do want to warn that people starting dying in this chapter.  
> I tried to keep it as fun and non-graphic as I could whole keeping with the tone.
> 
> This chapter also features art work commissioned from the amazing  
> [ Frosted Knight](https://twitter.com/frosted_knight)
> 
> I also want to thank you for all the kudos and comments. It really does make me feel so much.
> 
>  
> 
> UPDATE: Issues with the art have been fixed! <3

 

 

 

 

A firm hand landed on Shiro’s shoulder. 

Shiro screamed.

Lance and Matt shot up from their makeshift beds.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Ina scowled down at him.

But before he could reply, a gust of wind swept through the camp and the horses and camels began to whinny and bray as they struggled against their tethers. 

The Americans came pouring out of their tents fastening belts and holding guns. “What the hell is all that racket?” James demanded.

“Quiet!” Kinkade cocked his head. 

“Ya’ll hear that?” Nadia pulled the hammer back on her pistol. “What is that?”

What had started as a low hum beyond the crumbling walls grew into steady buzz. The darkness beyond the camp somehow seemed alive. The shadows writhed and swirled closer bringing the noise with them.

Ever louder.

Ever darker.

Keith’s eyes widened in horror. He grabbed Shiro’s hand as the shadows surged into the light. “Run!”

Fat, black locusts swarmed into the ruins with a deafening drone. Shiny round bodies smothering the firelight and overrunning every living thing in their path. Screams that cut through the hum were quickly drowned in the oncoming arthropod wave.

Keith shoved Shiro into the nearest opening and grabbed a torch. “Go!” He shoved Matt and Lance in next. 

“Keith!” Shiro pulled another torch from the wall. “What about the others?”

  
  
  


Blind panic had driven James inside the ruined temple. “Where the hell did those come from?” His skin crawled with the phantom sensation of insect legs. He tore through a thick clump of spider webs as he ran.

“I have no idea!” Kinkade panted out. “I’m not sticking around to find out.”

Nadia tripped over a broken edge of limestone catching herself on the edge of a doorway. Workers that fled the swarm pushed past her knocking plump locust bodies from the shoulders and flinging their arms. A stout, frantic man smashed into her back and flailed his bloody arms knocking her glasses through the air. “Son of a bitch!”  She pushed the man away and instantly regretted it. 

The telltale crunch of broken glass echoed off the stone as the man whimpered away taking the last of the light with him.

It was dark now and she was alone. And her vision was shit.

Nadia swallowed hard. “J-James?” No reply. 

She pressed her hand against the wall and took a deep breath. She was fine. She could do this. She would get to the others. The bugs would go and she could get her spare pair from the tent. 

And then she could kick James’ ass for leaving her here. 

She toed the sand covered floor and began her way down the tunnel one step at a time. 

A gust of wind fluttered her loose hair. Something rustled behind her. “Who’s there?’ She paused. “James?”

A breathy groan rattled from the darkness in reply.

Nadia spun on her heel and pulled her pistol. “Who’s there?” she demanded with a confidence she didn’t feel. 

A hiss.

She spun again and squinted. “I’m warning you!” A bead of sweat trailed down her spin. “I’m a damn good shot!”

A growl this time. 

She took a step forward. “Final warning!” Her finger shook against the trigger. 

A hand, heavy and somehow hard, settled on her shoulder. The acrid scent of decay wafted up the passage. 

Nadia’s blood ran cold. 

She turned one final time and screamed.

  
  
  
  


A high pitched noise, distant and unplaceable, echoed through the chamber. Lance whipped around. “That was a scream.”

“Probably,” Keith answered without looking back. He held tight to Shiro’s hand as he led the way. They rounded another corner. The passage was wider, the sand there higher. He held the torch out in front of him as he walked. 

A loud crack rang out causing Shiro to jump. Keith squeezed his hand. Suddenly, the ground began to tremor, the sand began to shake, the ancient walls creaked and rattled. A pedestal rose from the center of the hall coming to jerking stop after only rising a foot. 

Inky black scarabs burst from the foundation like a garden fountain. 

Shiro pulled Keith away. “Scarabs!” 

Keith pushed Shiro forward. “Go!”

He threw is torch into the onslaught of flesh eaters and pulled a shotgun off his back. 

“Keith!” Shiro called from ahead.

“I said ‘go’!” Keith pumped two shells into the writhing throng of beetles with no real results. He turned back to the others and ran. 

They skidded into another room and sprinted up an incline. On either side of the ramp was a meter wide gap. One side was a flat landing and the other a narrow empty archway. 

“Jump!” Matt yelled as he leapt over the divide to the landing with Lance on his heels. Shiro jumped into the archway slamming hard against the wall. 

Keith dove onto the landing just as the scarab horde overran the ramp. He pushed himself up and tucked his shotgun into its holster across his back. The beatles hissed and screeched scrambling over each other as they clawed up the dusty limestone slope. He looked back at Matt and Lance. “You two okay?”

They nodded.

Keith watched the last of the scarabs scrabble away before letting out a weary sigh. He wiped his forehead across his arm. “Shiro are…” His eyes searched the empty archway. “No…” Shiro had been there. He was there. He was safe. “Shiro?” Keith’s stomach dropped. “Shiro!”

  
  
  
  
  


Shiro caught himself against a rough hewn wall in a darkened corridor. He looked around frantically desperate for any indication of where he was. 

Last he knew, he’d been in the archway. There’d been a click and then he was falling down a ramp. And now he was… Where exactly? If he could just find some sort of marker or hieroglyphs, he’d be able to make a guess. 

Shiro barely had time to wonder before a wet gurgle interrupted his thoughts. He paused and peered slowly around the corner. 

In a shaft of silver moonlight stood Nadia facing the wide entry of a hall. Shiro let out a sigh of relief and chuckled to himself. Maybe he wasn’t so lost after all. 

He pushed off the wall and ran his hand through his hair. “Nadia, I am so happy to see you. I got separated from…” Nadia shifted to the side reaching out blindly. “Nadia?” She staggered back and turned.

Shiro stepped back in horror. “N-Nadia?”

Thick, dark blood slogged from swollen bruised sockets down her cheeks. She lurched forward slurring her words. “My eyes!” She swung at nothing. “My eyes!” She swiped at Shiro. “He took my tongue!”

Shiro reached out with a shaking hand. “My God… Who Nadia? Who did this to you?” 

Shiro’s skin prickled. He was being watched. He turned away from the moonlight and peered into the darkness. “Who’s there?”

Something moved. 

A figure moved forward and Shiro stepped back. 

“Na-Nadia?” He reached for the woman, but she slapped his hand away. 

“Don’t touch me!” she garbled. “Don’t touch me!”

The figure stalked forward into the light, his stolen eyes set on Shiro.

Globs of putrid flesh hung from its decaying body. Bone shone white through holes in the rotted muscles that squelched with each step. 

Shiro backed away eyes locked on the horror before him. "Run, Nadia!" 

He heard the woman groaning and moving but didn't dare take his off of the creature to see if she obeyed.

Finally, Shiro's back bumped against the wall. He felt along the surface for something, for anything he could pull free and use as a weapon.

The creature's withered lips twisted into the semblance of a smile. It leaned over Shiro and cupped his cheek. "You," it rasped in ancient Egyptian. "Your beauty will appease the gods."

The long barrel of a shotgun was pressed against the side of the creature's head. "Back off," Keith growled. "He's taken." He reached out for Shiro's hand. 

"Keith," Shiro smiled and grabbed tight. Keith pulled him away and against his side. "You found me."

Keith gave him a squeeze. "Come on." He guided them back gun trained on the walking corpse. 

The creature screeched and charged at them.

Keith pulled the trigger sending a shell into its skull and viscera into the air. He slung the gun over his back and pulled Shiro into a run. 

They burst out of the temple into the fire lit night where Matt and Lance were waiting with the Americans.

Where black clad men, the same men from the other night, pointed guns at them. A beautiful silver haired woman with blue crescent tattoos under each brilliant blue eye glared at Keith. "I told you to leave this place," she spat, "I told you to leave or die and now you very well may have killed us all!"

"Oh wow…" Lance breathed out. "Miss? Hi. Miss?"

The woman frowned at him. 

"Hi," he stepped forward with a smile. "I'm Lance. And uh… I don't know what Keith may have done-"

"You have awoken the creature!" She turned her gaze back on Keith. "The creature we have feared for over 3,000 years!"

"Well," Keith crossed his arms. "I took care of him."

"See! He took care of it! It's fine!" Lance tried to snake his arm around the woman. She pulled a dagger from her robe and held it to his neck. "No mortal weapon can kill him." She pushed Lance away. "He's not of this world." 

Matt caught his brother and stared at the woman. "What a dame…" 

Lance straightened himself and glared at Matt. "Back off."

Matt cocked a brow. "Or what?"

Another group of men pushed between Matt and Lance cradling an unconscious Nadia. 

James and Kinkade stepped forward and took her from the men. James pulled her close to his chest trying to pull her hair from the matted gore on his face. "What have you done to her?" His voice cracked. "What did you do?" He reached for a gun, but Kinkade stilled his hand. 

"We saved her," the silver haired woman shot back. "We got to her before the creature could finish his work." She gestured to the men. They lowered their guns. "Now leave. Before he finishes you all."  She started off to the east. "Tonight we hunt."

"I told you," Keith called after her. "He's dead."

She glowered at him over her shoulder. "And I told you." She closed the distance between them. "He is not of this world. This creature will never eat. He will never sleep. He will never stop until he has devoured those who have opened the chest. And then… His work truly begins."

  
  
  


The locusts and scarabs made short work of Sedak’s men. Skittering swarms devoured every man they that as they fled in the dark. Now he found himself alone now deep in the bowls of this ancient evil place. 

This place. His wife had tried to warn him of the wickedness of this dead city, the corrupted soul said to sleep beneath the sand. 

But she was an ignorant, superstitious woman from the desert tribes, so he’d paid her no mind. 

It was only now, in this venerable tomb, that he considered that he may have been wrong.

His torch flickered and sputtered giving life to the shadows and seemed to be inching closer. The scrape and skitter of insects caused him to startle. He walked backward swinging his torch low to the ground searching for their round black bodies and finding none. Panting hard, he swung around ready to run and came face to face with a shayatin. 

Sendak had never considered himself a coward, but he could admit to himself, now in the presence of a demon, that he was afraid. The torch fell from his hand lighting the creature from below giving its gore an otherworldly sheen. Slimy, pitted flesh wrapped too tightly around its bared teeth and Sendak wondered if it was smiling at him. The thing moved closer; Sendak stepped back. This time he knew, the rattling sounds coming from the beast were meant to be laughter. 

He was going to die. 

Sendak’s mind raced, he’d done so many things to get where he was. He’d swindled and stolen. He’d lied and deceived. 

He’d taken lives.

His mother had tried. She’d tried to instil her morals and faith in her eldest son, but it just never took. 

He wondered, now at the end, how disappointed she would be with the man he’d become? 

Sendak’s back made contact with cold rough stone. The creature loomed over him. 

Again he thought of his mother and her God and the Hashkiveinu prayer she would say with him as a child. He wet his lips and called out in his mother’s tongue, “Grant, O God, that we lie down in peace, and raise us up, our Guardian, to life renewed. Spread over us the shelter of Your peace. Guide us with Your good counsel; for Your Name’s sake, be our help. Shield and shelter us beneath the shadow of Your wings. Defend us against enemies, illness, war, famine and sorrow. Distance us from wrongdoing. For You, God, watch over us and deliver us. For You, God, are gracious and merciful. Guard our going and coming, to life and to peace evermore.”

The creature stared at him unmoving and for a moment, Sendak believed that his mother’s Lord had somehow wrapped him in a cloak of protection. 

The puttied flesh above the creature’s lidless eyes constricted as though it were lifting its eyebrows. It looked Sendak over slowly. “You!” the thing’s voice growled out in Hebrew, “You I may have some use for.” It dug a claw like hand into ragged leather pouch on its hip. “I will spare you.” It held out a handful of golden trinkets. “And your loyalty will be rewarded.”

Sendak looked from the gold to the creature and back. A smile formed on his lips as he bowed. “My emperor. How may I serve you?”

His mother’s god had saved him after all.

  
  


It was a hard ride through the night to make it back to the fort. From there, they joined the Americans on an overfilled train back to Cairo. They were back in the fort before noon. 

Barely time to think let alone talk.

But think Shiro had. His mind had been racing the entire journey back trying to absorb the knowledge that this was real. The curse was real.  And if this was real, what else were these ancient lands hiding? 

His mind reeled with the possibilities. 

This was an entirely different world now. One that he couldn’t wait to explore. 

And maybe Keith would too.

But first things first: they had to survive. 

They needed more information if they were going to defeat this… This… This mummy. 

He jumped out of the carriage before it stopped and ran to his rooms. He had stacks of his father’s books. Maybe there was something to be found in there. 

He tore into his room immediately scouring the bookshelves. He plucked one of Champollion’s journals from the stacks and began reading. 

He was determined. 

So determined, in fact, that he hadn’t heard Keith enter the room. 

He didn’t realize anyone was there until Keith began dragging his luggage out of the closet. Keith picked up the nearest suitcase and flopped it open on Shiro’s bed. 

“Keith?” Shiro looked up from his research with a frown. “What are you doing?”

“Your packing.” Keith grabbed an armload of clothes from the closet and dropped them, hangers and all, into the suitcase. “Shoo!” He tried to move Shiro’s fat white cat off of the lid, to no avail.

“Keith!” 

“Yeah?” Keith replied but didn’t stop moving. He grabbed a stack of random books and dropped the on top of the clothes finally startling the cat off the top.

“Will you stop? Please!” Shiro hopped up from the desk and grabbed the book from Keith’s hand. “I’m not going anywhere!” He reshelved the book. “I’m staying.” 

“I can’t let you do that,” Keith put his hands on his hips. “Besides,” he huffed “I thought you didn’t believe in fairy tales and all-” he gestured wildly with his hands “This.”

“Well,” Shiro picked up the cat. “Having an encounter with a 3,000 walking corpse tends to change one’s mind.” He nuzzled the cat. “Isn’t that right, Black?”  
Keith narrowed his eyes. “The cat’s name is Black?”  
“Yes.”

“It’s a white cat.”

“I know. It’s an ironic-Look! Don’t change the subject.”  Shiro lifted his chin. “We need to figure out how-”

“Nope!” Keith took Black and set him on the bed. “Forget it!” He tried to force the lid closed. “We’re leaving. Out the door. On a boat. Good-bye, Egypt.” He strained as he pushed the latch through. Sleeves and hems stuck out of every side of the suitcase. 

“We can’t, Keith!”  Shiro popped the latch back open and picked up a book to reshelve.

“Shiro!” Keith growled and grabbed the book in Shiro’s hand. “Put it back! We’re leaving!”

“We have an obligation!” Shiro tugged the book back.

“No, we really don’t!” Keith tugged the book.

“We woke him up and now we have to put him back!” Shiro tugged again. “He’s going to end the world!”

Keith let go. “That’s not my problem!”

“It’s the world, Keith! It’s everyone’s problem!”

“I told you not to read that book. I said, ‘Don’t mess with that.’”

“Fine!” Shiro held the book against his chest. “I woke him up and I intend to stop him!”

Keith ran a hand through his hair and groaned. “And just how do you intend to do that? No mortal weapon can kill him, remember?”  
“Well,” Shiro bit his lip “I’ll just have to figure out some _im_ mortal weapon.”

“I appreciate you, Shiro. You saved my life. You’re funny and smart and handsome and... “

Shiro blushed. “I-I am?”

“Of course you are!” Keith threw his hands up. “But I signed on to keep you safe! And I can’t do that if you keep running back into danger!” He slammed the lid of the suitcase closed again and leaned on it. “We’re going.”

Shiro swallowed hard and met Keith’s heated gaze. “I’m staying.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Keith marched toward the door. “Fine!”

Shiro followed. “Fine!”

“Fine! I’ll be back!” Keith pulled the door open. “I’m not letting you die!” He slammed the door.  
Shiro smiled to himself satisfied with his victory. 

  
  
  


 

“They’ll be back,” Nadia slurred “Shortly.” 

“Thank you, Ms. Razavi.” The man’s voice sounded familiar. “You’re hospitality is most appreached.” His deep voice and thick accent made her think of someone, but she couldn’t remember who. 

She wanted to ask more questions, but talking was… Well, it was hard. Her hand trembled a bit and she clenched her jaw. She wanted to cry again, but it hurt. The salty tears burned her raw sockets and caused her to bleed again. So she gritted her teeth and tried to stamp her emotions down. 

“It’s no tr-troub-” She paused struggling to form the word with the stump of a tongue she had left. 

“Oh my dear,” the man drawled. She sensed him closer now. “Don’t trouble yourself. You’ve already done so much for the Emperor Zarkon.”

She frowned. “We just met.”

A hot, heavy hand rested on her knee. “My lord would like to extend his thanks, Ms. Razavi, not only for your tea, but…” He moved away. “For the gift of sight.”

Dread pooled cold in her stomach. “Wh-What?”

The smile was evident in the man’s voice. “And the gift of speech.”

Chills spread over her shaking body. Hot burning tears escaped the swollen empty sockets of her eyes as her cup rattled against the saucer. 

The man took the tea from her. “But as generous as you’ve been, Ms.; I’m afraid my emperor requires more.”

“No…” But her whispered, garbled plea was drowned out by an inhuman roar. 

  
  
  


Keith sat down with a huff at the bar. Matt slid him a shot glass. Without a word, Keith turned it up. “I suppose your plan to get him to pack up fell through?”

Keith sighed.

Matt chuckled. “You know… He’s always been like this.”

“Stubborn?”

“Grand ideas. Unshakable mortality. Too many bloody books.” Matt took his shot. “I’d tell you not to mind him, but… I have a feeling it’s a bit late for that.”

Keith hummed and reached behind the bar grabbing a bottle of whiskey. 

Kinkade sat heavily on the stool next to Matt. “We’re set. The next boat doesn’t leave until morning though.”

James quietly leaned on the bar next to Keith, his usual cocky air gone, he was pale and drawn. Worse than Keith had ever seen him. Even on the streets. 

A pang of worry struck Keith. At first he was surprised, but they’d been friends once. Keith cleared his throat and poured another shot sliding it to James. “How’s, um… How’s Nadia?”

James stared at the amber liquid. “She’s alive.” He gently picked the glass up. “At least she’s alive.”

“Look, James.” Keith tapped his fingers on his thigh and sighed. “I’m sor-”

A woman shrieked behind them. 

Keith hopped off the stool with a pistol drawn and stopped short. 

In the center of the lounge stood a tall, stone fountain whose once fresh, clean water was thick and dark and…

“Blood,” Matt whispered. “‘And the rivers and waters of Egypt ran red…’” He looked at Keith. “”And were as blood.’”

“He’s here!” Keith ran toward the stairs taking two at a time. He ran down the hall and threw open Shiro’s door.  “Shiro!”

Shiro looked up from his mess of books with a bright smile. “Keith! I think-”

“Thank God,” Keith crossed the room and hauled Shiro up from the couch, pulling him close. “Later, doll. We’ve got problems.”

Shiro flushed. “D-Doll?”

Keith smirked. “You like that?”

Shiro blushed harder. “I-I-”

James’ scream next door cut him off. “Nadia!” 

Keith grabbed Shiro’s hand and ran into the hall. Matt, Kinkade and James were sprawled in the hallway, the creature looming over them. 

James looked absolutely stricken. “That son of bitch! He killed her!”

“Hey!” Keith drew two pistols and pulled back the hammers. 

The creature turned toward him. Shiro gasped. While still full of decay and holes, he seemed somehow more complete. More alive. His eyes landed on Shiro and the creature smiled. “Beautiful one,” it rapsed out in its ancient tongue. “Come with me.” He reached out a bony hand and began toward Shiro.

“No, you don’t!” Keith let out a volley of gunfire. 

But the creature was undeterred. He stalked down closer absorbing every bullet without care. He knocked Keith out of the way and caught Shiro’s arm mid-punch. He twisted his lips into a grimacing smile and pulled Shiro closer. 

Black rubbed herself against Shiro’s legs and let out a mournful “meow”. 

The creature dropped Shiro’s hand and let out an ungodly screech. He backed away, his body seeming to dissolve before their eyes. 

Shiro snatched Black up and ran to Keith’s side. 

The creature’s body began to spin as it dissolved into sand. Faster and faster it spun moving toward the nearest window and out into the afternoon sun.

A large man burst out of the Americans’ rooms pushing past anyone who got in his way. 

Keith leaned his head on Shiro’s shoulder and scratched Black’s ears. “Guess he’s not a cat person, huh?”

Shiro stared down at him and burst out into laughter. 

“Hey!” Lance wandered out into the hallway in a silky blue robe. “Some of us are trying to sleep!”

Matt looked down at the two of them and shook his head. “Glad you’re having fun. But we’re in serious trouble.”

“We need a plan,” Keith spun a pistol chamber as he reloaded. 

Shiro hummed thoughtfully.  “Nobody knows more about mythology than Coran. We need to get to the museum. If anyone has answers, it’s him.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing to say for myself except this: I am sorry!  
> I have been absolutely deluged with life and zines and I'm sorry for this chapter taking so long.  
> I love you all and will do better.   
> I hope you like it. 
> 
>  
> 
> No Beta, we die like men!

“Coran is the only one who knows more about Egyptology than Shiro,” Matt patted Keith on the back as they rounded the corner in front of the man’s office. “Trust me. He can give us the answers.”   
“Yeah, well, he damn well better,” James huffed from behind. 

“I assure you,” Shiro pushed the polished doors open as he spoke, “Coran is-”

The words died on his lips as he took in the scene before him. Coran, his father’s most trusted friend, casually conversing with the woman from the dessert. 

“It’s you!” Lance grinned and tried to push past Keith. “I-Oof!”

Keith pulled his revolver from his holster and pushed in front of Shiro blocking Lance. “You! What the hell are you doing here?”

“Shiro!” Coran smiled. “Lance. Matt. Hello, boys! I see you’ve met Allura here.”

“Yeah,” Keith cocked the hammer on the pistol. “We’ve met.”

“What is she doing here, Coran?” Shiro pressed his lips together and glanced between them. 

“Would you really like to know?” Allura crossed her arms and leaned against the desk. “Or would you rather shoot me?”

“Keith!” Lance hissed.

“I’m thinking,” Keith snapped.

Shiro sighed and put his hand on Keith’s arm. “I think we should go on a little faith after what we’ve all just seen.” He pressed gently on Keith’s arm. “Don’t you?”

“Fine,” Keith released the hammer and narrowed his eyes at Allura.”Let’s talk.”

Coran walked around the desk with his hands behind his back. “Allura and I part of the same ancient bloodline. We are descendants of the Medjay, Pharaoh’s personal guardians sworn to protect the world from Zarkon and prevent the creature from being released.”

James scoffed. “Looks like you failed there.”

“Because you,” Allura looked James over. “You have destroyed our life’s work. And the work of our ancestors. You have doomed us. For what? For money?” She spat on the floor and glared at him.

“Look at you,” James sneered. “Acting all high and mighty as if you haven’t killed innocent people to keep your secrets!” 

Kinkade moved in front of him and held his shoulders. “James!”

“No!” his voice cracked. “Veronica’s dead!” He pushed harder against Kinkade’s broad frame. “Ronnie’s dead and-”

“And we’re next!” Kinkade shook his friend. “Get it together, James!.Or-Or...We’re dead too.”

James looked away and nodded. “Fine,” he sniffed. 

Lance stretched his back and leaned against a bust and smiled at Allura. “So… Uh… Ancient bloodline, huh? I like that.” He repositioned himself. “You know, in England they’re big on lineage too. That’s uh-” 

Matt smacked his brother’s hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What is the issue with cats?” 

“Oh!” Coran smiled at Matt. “Surely you know this one, Matthew. Cats are the guardians of the underworld.”

“So he’s still vulnerable?” Shiro asked. 

“Until he is fully regenerated.”

“And then he will fear nothing,” Allura stepped forward. “He will be immortal. Unstoppable.”

Shiro nodded. “Um… I have-” he glanced at Keith “I have another question. When we were at the ruins, he um… And then at the fort just now-” Shiro blushed. “He keeps calling me ‘beautiful’ and he tried to kiss me.”

Keith bristled next to him.

“Oh my!” Coran looked over at Allura. “It seems he’s made his choice.”

She looked Shiro over and hummed. “It would appear so.”

“What?” Keith put an arm around Shiro’s waist.

“Well,” Coran continued. “Do you happen to know why Zarkon was cursed?”

Shiro shook his head.

“He fell in love with Honerva, Pharaoh’s mistress. Together they orchastrated his murder. Only she died in process.”

“Romantic,” Lance huffed. 

Allura hummed. “Quite.”

Lance smiled at her. 

She cleared her throat. “He was captured attempting.to bring her back to life. Something, it appears, he plans to try again.”

“But what does that have to do with me?” Shiro asked.

“He needs a worthy sacrifice,” Coran patted him on the shoulder. “It’s a great honor actually.”

“Nope!” Keith pulled Shiro closer. “Not gonna happen.”

“If there is any hope of stopping him, it has to be done before he is regenerated, right?” Matt asked.

“Right,” Allura put her hand on Coran’s shoulder. “Shiro may be the distraction that we need to buy us enough time to come up with a plan.”   
“Looks like we need all the help we can get,” Lance pointed out the window. 

Keith gripped Shiro’s waist harder. “That can’t be good.”

“His powers are growing,” Allura pressed her hand against the glass and watched as the moon settled in front of the sun in an unnatural eclipse. 

“‘And he  stretched forth his hand toward heaven; and there was a thick darkness in all the land of Egypt.’” Matt pressed his lips together and looked over at Shiro. “We’ve got to do something.”

“Well, that’s not good, is it?” Coran turned to James. “Who was with you when you opened the chest?”

“There was me and James,” Kinkade answered.

“And… Ronnie,” James added. 

“And Ina.”

“Four of you?”

“What about your workers? Or the foreman?” Shiro asked.

Kinkade shook his head. “They were frightened. They took off.”

“Yeah,” James sniffed. “They were the smart ones.”

“The foreman?” Keith clenched his fists. “I knew I recognized that bastard from the fort. It was your foreman. What was his name?”

“S-Sendo?” Matt offered.

“Sindor?” Shiro tried.

“Sendak,” James answered. “His name is Sendak.”   
“Looks like he has a new boss now,” Lance slung his arm around Allura. 

She promptly removed it. “I’ll begin looking through the writings with Coran.”

“Let’s head back to the fort and see if Ina’s there,” Keith adjusted his holster. “I think it’s best if the rest of us stick together.” He narrowed his eyes at James. “For now.”

  
  
  


Shiro sighed and leaned against the doorway. He looked over his balcony at the soldiers gathered in the courtyard below. The eclipse had cast the city in imitation twilight causing giving an eerie aire to the masses that crowded into the streets beyond the fort’s walls. The city buzzed with fear. 

So did the room behind him. 

They’d searched for Ina in every room and every public area of the fort. But the blonde had gone.

James fell into the settee. “You don’t suppose she went back to the office, do you?”

Kinkade shrugged. “It would make sense.”

“You have an office and you didn’t think to tell us?” Shiro deadpanned. “That’s brilliant.”

“When exactly should I have brought it up?” James grabbed a pillow and held it to his chest. “When we were fighting off marauders, running for our lives, or-” he put on an accent “Over a spot of tea?” He gripped the pillow tighter burying his face in the edges. 

Kinkade moved to his friend’s side. “The office is upstairs from the money changer on the north side of the bazaar.”

“Okay,” Keith strapped another holster to his slender waist. “You and you.” He pointed at Kinkade and James with the barrel of a gun. “You’re coming with me.” He shoved the pistol into the new holster.

“Why the hell would I do that?” James snapped. 

“She’s your team,” Keith picked up a knife and slid it into his belt. “She’s your responsibility.”

“Like hell,” James crossed his arms. “She’s an adult. She made her choice.”

“Kinkade?”

“He has a point,” he sighed. “We’re the ones that that thing is after. Wouldn’t it make more sense if we stayed in the fort?”

Keith glared at them both. “Fine.” He looked at Matt and Lance. “You two are coming with me.” 

“Us?” Lance gripped the sides of his chair.  “W-What?”

“Grab a gun and come on.”

“What about me?” Shiro pushed off the doorframe. “I want to go.”

“You’re staying here,” Keith crossed his arms and looked up at Shiro. 

“But I’m perfectly capable of handling myself!”

“More capable than Lance,” Matt muttered as he picked up a gun. 

“No negotiations.”

“You don’t get to decide what I do, Mr. Kogane.” Shiro reached around Keith aiming to grab a weapon. 

Instead Keith grabbed his arm and then he grabbed his leg and before Shiro could protest, Keith had thrown him over his shoulder. All Shiro could do is sputter and blush as Keith carried him to the bedroom. Keith flung him hard onto the feather mattress and leaned over him. 

“K-Keith?” 

Keith leaned closer leveraging himself by sliding his knee between Shiro’s thighs. His lips hovered just over Shiro’s, hot breath warming his entire body. “You’re staying here,” Keith whispered against his lips. “No negotiations.”

He pushed back suddenly and strode out of the room closing the doors behind him. Keith turned the key locking Shiro in. He tossed the key to Kinkade. “Nobody goes in and he doesn’t come out.”

“Right.”

James shrugged. “Right.”

Keith grabbed a pistol from the table and thrust it in Lance’s hands. “Let’s go find Ina.”

  
  
  
  
  


“Honestly though,” Lance tugged on his collar. “I don’t see why we need to worry about their little folklorist or what have you.”  He followed Keith and Matt up the narrow stone stairs to James’ office. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to just protect the two we already have? He can’t get to Shiro if he hasn’t got them.”

Matt sighed. “We can’t very well protect the Americans back at the fort or Shiro if Zarkon gets more powerful, now can we?”

“Sure, but-”

“Quiet!” Keith hissed at them from the top of the stairs. He pulled a gun from his waist and slowly made his way closer to the office door. 

Lance opened his mouth retort ready on the tip of his tongue. A heavy thud from inside the room cut him off. He swallowed hard and fumbled for the derringer in his pocket aiming the stubby pistol at the heavy wooden door. “D-Do you think it’s him?”

Keith ignored him and moved closer.

“What if it’s him?” Lance whispered to Matt. “Shouldn’t we have brought a cat?”

“Shut up!” Matt slapped his hand over his brother’s mouth.

Lance licked his palm.

Matt jerked his hand away and flicked Lance in the middle of his forehead.

Keith glared at the pair. 

“He started it!” Lance pointed his gun at Matt.

Matt slapped his hand away. “You idiot!”

The door burst open before Keith could respond. A chair flying into the stairwell. Keith threw himself forward and opened fire. A hulking man, Sendak, the Americans’ foreman, charged at Keith khopesh held high. Matt knocked Lance aside and shot. Sendak slashed at Keith ignoring the volley of gunfire with a grin. 

“That hit him!” Lance grasped Matt’s sleeve. “You hit him!”

“Under my master’s protection,” the foreman slashed at Keith. Keith rolled away. “I am immune to your mortal weapons!” Sendak chuckled darkly. “I am invincible!”

Keith grabbed a sword from the wall and parried the next blow. He struck out with the sword and threw one of the scattered draws. Sendak knocked it away and grabbed Keith by the collar lifting him up. “I could use some help!” Keith clawed at Sendak’s thick arm. “If it’s-Not-Too much-Trouble!”

Matt ran forward. 

“Ah!” Lance stumbled forward losing his grip on his brother’s sleeve almost tripping on chair leg.

Sendak knocked Matt aside without loosening his hold on the flailing Keith. 

Lance took a shuddering breath and grabbed the chair leg. He charged forward. Sendak laughed and struck out his free arm, ready to bat Lance away. Lance dropped to his knees and slid beneath the Goliath’s reach. He pulled the chair leg back and swung. The heavy wood collided with Sendak’s groin dropping him almost instantly.

Keith fell from his grip and scrambled to his feet staring at Lance with a crooked grin. 

Lance shrugged and tossed the wood over his shoulder. “Cricket lessons.”

A shrill scream sounded from the street below. The three ran to the window throwing the shutters open. Ina’s shriveled corpse lay on the dusty street a man in a black galabiya and turban was bent over her pulling the book from her skeletal arms. 

“Zarkon…” Keith turned back. Sendak was gone. 

Zarkon, newly formed skin stretched tight against his face, smiled up at them as Sendak joined him by his side. Zarkon thrust the book into his servant’s arms and held the canopic jar to his partially formed chest. His grey skin torn when his opened his mouth, but he didn’t stop. His mouth opened wider, impossibly wide. The air around them shifted and sickening hum filled the air. A black, writhing swarm of flies erupted from his gaping maw.

Keith slammed the shutters closed. “We’re too late…”

“Two down.” Matt bit his lip. “Two to go.”

“He’s going after Shiro.”

They ran.

  
  
  
  
  


James pushed off the windowsill. “I can’t take this.” He frowned at Kinkade. “I need a drink.”

Kinkade looked up from his book. “I’m not sure that’s the best idea, James.” 

“I don’t care. I can’t stay in here anymore.” 

Kinkade sighed and set the book aside. “I understand that-”

“You don’t,” James snapped. He crossed his arms and stared at the door. “I… I didn’t-”

“I know.” Kinkade cut him off. 

The silence sat heavy between them. Kinkade knew about loss.  Even before Atlanta. If it hadn’t been for James’ father then…  James shook his head. “I’ll get a bottle and bring it back.”

Kinkade rested his elbows on his knees. “Get two glasses.”

That’s as close as they ever came to talking about what they really meant. How they actually felt. 

And James was fine with that. He couldn’t ask Ryan for any more than he’d already given him. This was enough.

He gave a curt nod. “I’ll be right back.”

The door closed and Kinkade stood stuffing his hands in his pockets. Maybe if they lived through this, he’d say it. Tell James what he really meant. Be selfish. Ask for more than he’d already given him. 

Maybe. 

He crossed the room in three long strides and leaned his back against the windowsill.A cool breeze swept through the room sending a chill down his arms reminding him of why they were here. 

He glanced over at the canopic jars side by side on the table. That thing, that creature, was coming. For those.

For  _ them _ .

He pressed his lips together. 

Maybe had always been a luxury. Someday, a safety net keeping him from saying anything, Letting him put off telling James that he… 

But with Nadia gone and death looming, the time to tell the truth seemed closer than ever. Setting his resolve, Kinkade tapped his fist against the window ledge. When James got back he was going to tell him.

And if he died, he’d die knowing.

One way or the other. 

The wind picked up. Kinkade turned and frowned at the night sky. The trees in the courtyard were still, the evening sky clear. “What…” The wind blew harder, sand filled the air whistling past his ears and swirling around the room. Kinkade backed away from the window waving his arms. The sand grew thicker, the winder swirled faster. 

He couldn’t breath.

He couldn’t see.

His skin burned.

Hands grasped Kinkade’s neck lifting him high inside the cyclone. 

Zarkon. 

The creature pulled the life from Kinkade’s body with a smile on his freshly formed face. He tossed the used husk aside and turned to the bedroom door. 

His beauty was in there. 

His vessel.

His sacrifice.

Zarkon reached for the handle. Locked. 

But no worry.

Calling upon the sands again, he lets his body falls to pieces and pour through the keyhole. 

How funny to think that such a simple thing would keep him from his prize. 

Reforming inside the room, Zarkon smiled down his vessel sleeping on an overstuffed mattress. The oil lamp casting shadows over his well formed body, highlighting his pretty face. Yes, he made a good choice. 

This one was lovely.

He brushed the white tuft of hair out of his way. Soon his Honerva would own this body. His lover. His soulmate. 

His everything.

“Honerva…” He carded his fingers through thick black hair and leaned down. “My love…” He pressed his fresh soft lips against the sleeping man.

The man reciprocated, at first, murmuring another name against Zarkon’s lips. He cupped his cheek fingers sliding over smooth skin and freezing at the rough edges of the decaying hole that had yet to heal. Amber eyes shot open and the man pushed against Zarkon’s shoulders scrambling away.

A deafening crack sounded through the room. Three men rushed through the door, the leader holding a fat, white cat.

“Shiro!”

Zarkon’s prize had scrambled from the bed and ran to the man. “Keith!”   
Keith waved the cat at Zarkon. “Look what I got!”

The cat hissed. 

Zarkon felt the call of Osiris. 

Dammit all! He was still too weak. He wrapped himself in wind and sand and fled to the city below.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/kittykittymoon)


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